


WORLD ENOUGH AND TIME

by Slasherfem



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slasherfem/pseuds/Slasherfem
Summary: This story takes place a year after the events in the movie “Star Trek: Generations”, when we find out what really happened to Captain Kirk after his heroic death on Veridian III.





	WORLD ENOUGH AND TIME

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The world of STAR TREK and everything in it belongs to Paramount Studios and Viacom. I, along with every other slash writer, am only allowed to play with these beloved characters discreetly and help them to have fun outside of the heroic box that the studio suits have put them into. There is no financial profit to be gained from this pursuit, only the satisfaction of a job well done and a happy ending.

ONE

Spock lay in the sun, feeling its warmth upon his face, hearing the rush of waves washing up onto shore, smelling salty sea air. Suddenly he felt cold water splashing on his face, which made him sit up, sputtering indignantly. He wiped his face with his hands, blinking salt water out of his eyes as he tried to see who had done this to him. A familiar peal of laughter met his ears.

“What’s the matter, Spock? Water too cold for you?”

Spock sat there with salt water dripping down his face and naked chest, staring unbelievingly at the face of his long-dead bondmate, James T. Kirk, who knelt before him laughing. “Jim?” he whispered. “Is it really you, Jim?”

“Of course it’s me!” said Kirk. “Come on, Spock, can’t you leave Starfleet business behind even for a weekend at the beach?”

Spock looked around and saw the beachfront cottage where Kirk had insisted upon taking him for their final leave together, before the renowned starship captain had left on his fateful trip to see the launching of the U.S.S. ENTERPRISE 1701-B. Gulls soared across the blue Terran skies, the yellow sun shone down on them, rapidly drying the seawater on his face and chest. Spock reached out to touch his bondmate’s face, looking into the familiar hazel eyes. “Jim,” he whispered unbelievingly, “I thought you were dead.”

“You were dreaming, Spock. I told you not to eat so much. You always have bad dreams when you fall asleep on a full stomach.”

Spock saw a picnic basket beside them filled with the remains of a sumptuous lunch. He also saw that they were on a huge, bright red beach blanket, wearing identical black bathing trunks that resembled the skimpy black underwear they used to wear beneath their uniforms on the original ENTERPRISE. Finding himself back in the last place on Earth where he was happy, with his bondmate, from whom he had been separated for seventy-nine lonely years, Spock felt his eyes fill with tears as he caressed the familiar features beneath his hand.

“Jim, how I have missed you,” he said as he stroked the beloved face before him, cherishing the sight of every laugh line and every gray hair on his blond head.

“How could you miss me when I never went away? All I did was go for a swim.” Kirk laughed again as he jumped up and ran down the beach, calling to Spock over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go for a run! That should wake you up!”

Spock sprang up and went after him, feeling the hot sand beneath his feet as he ran, cold water lapping at his ankles as he pursued the lithe, suntanned figure along the shore. “Jim, wait!” he called frantically. “Jim, come back!” He was afraid of losing him again after finding him so unexpectedly.

Kirk only laughed as he kept running. “Try and catch me!” he taunted him like a playful little boy. “We’ll see how fast you can run, with a bellyful of cucumber sandwiches and potato salad!”

Spock remembered that was exactly what they had eaten upon that day as he pursued the still trim figure of his beloved Jim, trying to catch up with his past and the happy days they had known before Jim’s death.

“Jim, wait for me!” he pleaded as he ran. But he couldn’t seem to get any closer to Kirk, no matter how fast he went. Was he only pursuing a dream? Would it dissolve into nothingness the moment he laid his hands on it? He had to find out. The sound of seagulls crying and waves rushing on the shore nearly drowned out the sounds of his heavy breathing and his heart pounding in his ears as he ran, gradually closing the distance between himself and the human, until he finally caught up to him.

His arms reached out to grasp warm, solid human flesh. He pulled him close and hugged him as hard as he dared, remembering how fragile human ribcages were beneath Vulcan strength. His bondmate’s laughter rang in his ears as Kirk playfully struggled to get loose.

“Okay, Spock, you win! Let go! Come on, let go already!”

Spock only pulled him closer and buried his face in his hair. He kissed the nape of his neck and tasted the salty tang of sweat on his skin. “I will never let you go! You are mine!” he declared into the soft, graying blond hair on the back of Kirk’s head. “Don’t ever leave me again, Jim.”

“All right, I promise I’ll never leave you. Will you let me go now? Come on, Spock, you’re gonna bust my ribs!” Kirk leaned back against him, laughing happily as Spock hugged him and kissed the nape of his neck. When the Vulcan finally loosened his grip, Kirk turned around and embraced him, pressing his firm, compact body against the hard, hairy chest. Spock was able to look into the beloved hazel eyes once more before Kirk lifted his face up for a kiss. He dipped his head quickly and caught the full lips with his own, kissing his beloved like a thirsty man sucking on a canteen. Kirk gave a moan of pleasure as he returned the kiss, running his fingers through Spock’s hair as he did so and caressing each pointed eat tip tenderly. As they stood on the deserted beach together, holding and caressing each other the way they had done before, Spock felt a strong sense of _déjà vu._

_*What am I doing here again, at this place, at this time? Why is Jim alive again? And how can I keep him that way?* _He came up for air and held Jim close as he looked out over the water, feeling the beloved human’s arms around him, hearing him softly panting as he caught his breath.

As he looked out over the water, he saw what appeared to be a line of fire in the sky. At first he thought it was heat lightning; the sky was still blue and the waves no higher than usual, so it couldn’t be a storm. But as he watched, the line of fire became an energy ribbon. It flared across the horizon, throwing off sparks as it approached the shore where he and Jim stood embracing.

“Jim,” he said, “we must take cover. I see something coming toward us that may be dangerous.”

“No, it isn’t,” Kirk assured him. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt us.”

“How do you know?” Spock asked as the fiery ribbon in the sky came closer and closer.

“I know it won’t, Spock. Please, just hold me tight and let it take us both.”

Fear made Spock’s stomach contract as he saw how the ribbon writhed like a serpent, throwing off sparks and glowing with heat. It got so close that he could even feel the heat on his face. “Jim, we must run,” he urged his bondmate, whose beloved body was beginning to feel like dead weight in his arms. “Let us flee from here!”

“No, Spock, we can’t. Don’t be afraid, it won’t hurt us. Just hold onto me and let it take us both. It’s the only way we can be together.”

Spock watched the fiery ribbon in the sky as it came closer and closer, heard it emitting a low, crackling hum of energy as it prepared to engulf them. He could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck as the urge to flee became stronger. “No, Jim,” he said hoarsely, “don’t let it touch us!”

“I have to!” Kirk sobbed as he tightened his embrace, holding him so tight that Spock felt his nails digging into his back. “I have to let it take us both! Please, Spock, come with me this time! Don’t let me die alone again!”

“No, Jim! No!” Spock shouted as the Nexus enveloped them. He felt its’ tremendous heat engulf him from head to toe, saw green darkness behind his eyelids, then he saw and felt nothing.

He woke up in his bed alone, covered with cold sweat, and knew that he had only been dreaming of being on a beach with Jim. Outside his window he could see T’Khut, Vulcan’s sister planet, glowing green in the night sky as it sank toward the horizon, giving way to the red sun. Spock got out of bed, untangling himself from the covers that had become wrapped so tightly around him, and went to the window, where he stood naked to watch the sunrise. Tears came to his eyes as he remembered the dream.

“‘Had we but world enough and time...’” he quoted, letting his head hang down with the weight of his grief. “Time. That is the one thing we did not have enough of, _T’hy’la_. Never enough time. Never enough time with you, Jim.” He closed his eyes and let the tears fall on the windowsill as he felt the pain of loss engulf him once more.

TWO

Later that morning, Spock sat outside his office in the meditation garden, studying the designs in the golden sand among the carefully arranged rocks. Patterns and symbols meant to inspire thought and soothe the senses had been drawn on the smooth surface. Since his return to Vulcan, he had spent most of his time here recovering from his recent illness. After he had contracted Hemorrhagic Fever on Romulus, the Unificationists had smuggled him off their planet at great risk to themselves. Nobody in the Unification movement wanted to risk losing their leader to this illness, a particularly virulent strain currently responsible for a great many deaths on Romulus.

Upon his return to Vulcan, he had taken possession of his father’s house, empty since the death of Sarak and the departure of his widow Perrin for Earth, except for an elderly caretaker and his wife, who had been told to be prepared for the return of Sarak’s son at any time. Despite his long absence, Spock had found everything in good order, even the meditation garden, which had been his father’s preferred spot for contemplation in the evenings, and was now his preferred spot as well.

His mother’s flower garden in back of the house was still a lovely array of color and scent, but he hadn’t been able to set foot in it since his first day out of bed. It was filled with too many memories of his beloved human mother, planting and tending the flowers from her home world while her five-year-old half-Vulcan son followed alongside her. He still remembered picking up the colored stones from the pile by the door and carrying them to each location she directed him to, setting them down carefully, then dusting off his tiny hands while looking up at her declaring, “I help, Momma. I help!”

“Yes, Spock-kam, you help Momma a lot.” Amanda’s loving voice echoed in his memory. “Now go wash your hands in the fountain and we’ll go inside and have lunch.”

Tears came to his eyes at the memory. He let them gather and fall slowly down his face, not caring how illogical it was to grieve for his mother at his age. At 141 standard years old, he was entitled to such harmless eccentricities as an occasional show of emotion. His recent illness had also weakened him to the point where his controls were worn so thin, the slightest remembrance of his past was enough to drive him to tears. The sound of footsteps coming from the office inside alerted him in time. He wiped the tears off with his sleeve and assumed a pose of meditation, bowing his head over his steepled hands. 

“Pardon me, sir,” said the voice of the caretaker behind him. “You have a visitor. A human gentleman from Earth. He says he is an old friend of yours from the original ENTERPRISE.”

Spock turned to look at the caretaker with one eyebrow raised curiously. The only other survivor of the ENTERPRISE’s original crew was the irascible Doctor McCoy, and he was even older than Spock. Except for an occasional lecture at Starfleet Academy, he seldom went out in public. Nothing but an emergency could drag him away from his comfortable retirement on Earth. What was he doing on Vulcan? The only logical thing to do was find out. “Show him in, Staaban,” he told the caretaker.

Staaban bowed and went back inside. Spock’s still keen ears heard him murmuring to the visitor, “Lord Spock will see you now, sir.”

Instead of McCoy’s frail, wizened figure, a plump, hale and hearty man with iron-gray hair strode into the garden, grinning through his graying mustache. “So this is where yer spending yer days, is it?” said a familiar Scottish burr in mock reproach. “Sitting in the sun like an old gaffer, when you should be out saving the bloody universe!”

“Scotty!” Spock exclaimed with a smile, momentarily forgetting his Vulcan dignity at the sight of his old friend. He regained it immediately, of course, nodding to his former shipmate gravely as he greeted him in a more appropriate fashion. “It is good to see you again, Mr. Scott. Pray tell me, how did you manage to survive the passage of time relatively unscathed?”

“Aye, I’ve been dying to tell you ever since I left the new ENTERPRISE. That’s the 1701-D, with Jean-Luc Picard commanding.”

“I am well acquainted with Captain Picard. How did you come to make his acquaintance?”

Scott sat down in the shade and proceeded to fill him in on everything that had happened to him since he was rescued from the U.S.S. JENOLIN’s transporter system by Picard’s chief engineer, Geordi La Forge. Afterwards, Spock complimented him on the ingenuity of his idea of locking the transporter system into a continuous diagnostic loop, so that he and Ensign Matt Franklin could survive the JENOLIN’s long imprisonment, embedded on the surface of the Dyson sphere.

“Aye, ‘twas a pity the lad didn’t survive,” Scott said regretfully. “After all the hurly-burly was done, Picard was kind enough to “loan” me a shuttlecraft, so I could get about in this brave new world and see what changes had been made while I was out of the loop. I didn’t get to Earth for eighteen months. You can imagine the commotion I caused when I reported to Starfleet Headquarters to collect me back pay! Guess they didn’t really believe Picard’s report. Anyway, I settled for retirement and let ‘em pension me off, after I was interviewed by a bunch of doctors, therapists and historians asking all kinds of fool questions. You could have knocked me over with a feather when one of those doctors turned out to be Leonard McCoy. _Admiral_ Leonard McCoy, if you please! The old gaffer can barely walk, but he insisted on tottering into me room at HQ so he could insult me in person.”

“I take it the good doctor was his usual choleric self?”

“Aye, that he was!” Scott laughed. “The minute I saw him, I said, ‘Leonard McCoy! God have mercy! Are you still practicing medicine, you old quack? I’m surprised there’s anybody still living!’ And he said to me, ‘Good God, Scotty! Are you still an engineer? I’m surprised there’s anything still working!’ After he pulled rank and chased out all the young lads-plus a few fine lassies I was sorry to see go-we opened up a bottle of scotch he’d brought along and sat around sipping it and talking about old times. He told me you was still around too, on Romulus of all places! He called it a fool’s errand, trying to reunite Romulus with Vulcan, but I reminded him that you and Jim had always been fond of lost causes.”

Spock felt dangerously close to tears again at the mention of his bondmate. He closed his eyes and struggled silently with his emotions. Scott kept talking until he noticed how quiet Spock had become, then he shut up and waited for him to regain his control. When Spock finally opened his eyes again, he saw a remorseful Scott regarding him silently. “Me and me big mouth,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry, Spock, I shouldn’t have mentioned Jim.”

“It is of no consequence, Mr. Scott. I would be more disturbed if you omitted any mention of him,” Spock admitted.

“I heard you was married twenty years after Jim died. Took you that long to accept that he was gone, did it?” asked Scott in his typically blunt, honest fashion.

“I had difficulty accepting the fact that he was gone,” Spock admitted. “But I was still young enough to experience another Time, so my father persuaded me that I would be better off taking another mate, for safety’s sake.”

“Is she here with you?”

“No, T’Luna and I parted amicably after my last _Pon Farr_. She wished to have children and I spent too much time away from home to be involved in family life.” He didn’t tell Scott how T’Luna had been dismayed to find the image of his late bondmate in his mind while they were mating. He had not meant to hurt her, but she was devastated to discover that he still cherished the memory of Jim so much that he was incapable of envisioning her during the act of mating. It had been impossible to hide from her, as mind melding was so much a part of marital intimacy. They could have mated without joining minds-he and Jim had done so frequently-but it would have only aroused her suspicions that he was hiding something from her.

Not wishing to stand in another’s shadow, T’Luna had requested a divorce, even provided a face-saving reason for it so that neither of them would be embarrassed in court. They had parted friends, but had gradually drifted apart as he became more involved with the underground movement to reunite Vulcan and Romulus. The last time he heard from her was just before he left Vulcan, when she sent him word that she was to be married to a colleague of hers at the Vulcan Science Academy where she taught.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Scott sympathized.

“So was I,” Spock admitted. “She would have been a good companion, even without the depth of the bond I enjoyed with Jim.”

“I doubt mere companionship would have been enough for you after a while,” Scott commented, eyeing him shrewdly. “Whenever I saw you and Jim together, I could always tell that you were more than friends.”

“Our relationship was no secret to close friends like you and McCoy. But after Jim was lost in the accident aboard the ENTERPRISE-B, I was visited by a Starfleet representative, who gave me formal condolences as Jim’s legal spouse, followed by an urgent request not to divulge the true nature of our relationship to any inquiring journalist who wished to write an account of his career.”

“Aye, they said the same thing to me just before Jim’s memorial service,” Scott said disgustedly. “They must have told all of Jim’s friends not to say anything about the two of you being bondmates. In this day and age, you’d think they’d be a little less worried about Starfleet’s macho image!”

Spock, remembering how anxious Jim had been to preserve his own macho image, felt a pang of jealousy as he remembered his bondmate’s relationship with Antonia Lenox. He knew that the relationship had not been strictly platonic, but he was not selfish enough to deny his bondmate companionship while they were separated by their duties. He just wished that Jim had been a little more discreet. He and Antonia had been seen together in public so much, the press had taken it for granted that they were romantically involved at the time of Jim’s death. And the woman had done nothing to discourage them, even going so far as to write a book about her brief acquaintance with the famed Starfleet captain, making it seem like the romance of the century.

Spock couldn’t blame her for wanting to profit from all the publicity surrounding Jim’s heroic death; it was a common human failing. But she had added insult to injury by mentioning him in the book only as “Captain Kirk’s lifelong friend”, dismissing him as just another Vulcan too wrapped up in logic to make more than one friend in a lifetime. That hurt him worse than having their relationship publicly exposed and made to seem like a sordid, tawdry affair.

“Enough about Starfleet, then!” Scott said briskly. “I came to bring you news about the ENTERPRISE. You heard about it being destroyed on Veridian III?” He proceeded to tell Spock about Picard’s brave struggle to prevent a mad scientist, Doctor Tolian Soran, from destroying an innocent planet so that he could re-enter the Nexus.

Spock was fascinated, having been underground on Romulus for so long that he was still far behind on news from Starfleet. But Scott saved the best and the worse news for last. He told Spock how Picard had met Kirk in the Nexus and persuaded him to return to the present with him so they could both fight Soran. Then he told him about the two starship captains’ brave struggle with Soran, which had resulted in the deaths of Soran and Kirk. After hearing this, Spock was quiet for an even longer time.

“Och, I’ve gone and put me foot in it again!” Scott exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Spock. I shoulda known it would upset you, hearing that Jim was actually here in the present, alive and well, for such a short time.”

“It is of no consequence, Mr. Scott,” Spock repeated, turning his head away to hide the tears that had come to his eyes. “Even if I had known of his return to this time period, I doubt if I would have been able to leave Romulus in time to see him again.”

“Aye, he wasn’t here all that long,” Scott admitted. “But at least we can do the next best thing, Spock. We can both go to Veridian III and visit Jim’s grave, before Starfleet starts mucking with it. Half of ‘em want to dig him up and take him back to Earth to be interred with the rest of Starfleet’s heroes. The other half want to leave him where he is and build a memorial around him. While they’re busy arguing, me and you can go pay our respects.”

“Your idea has merit, Mr. Scott,” Spock admitted, feeling better already. “Despite the fact that I accepted Jim’s loss seventy-nine years ago, I would not object to being able to visit his grave, as I was unable to do at his original demise.”

“That’s the spirit! Come on, Spock, throw some things in a bag and let’s go see Jim’s final resting place,” Scott urged him.

“I believe I will.” With that, Spock rose to his feet and followed his old friend back into the house, to give orders for a quick lunch to be prepared while he packed a few necessities.

THREE

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat quietly in the vast auditorium, pretending to listen as the speaker droned on and on about the late Captain Kirk’s brilliant career and how fitting and proper it was for him to be interred with the rest of their renowned officers in the underground crypt at Starfleet headquarters here in San Francisco. Another speaker was waiting to give the opposite point of view, that Kirk’s remains should be left undisturbed on Veridian III and a memorial built around the fallen hero. Picard knew that his own presence here was required as the sole witness to Kirk’s brief return to this century a year and a half ago, but with all the attention being paid to Kirk, he felt like a dunsel, a useless part on any starship.

_*I wonder if anyone would notice if I slipped out for a cup of tea?*_ He longed for a hot cup of Earl Grey tea, with perhaps a couple of cucumber sandwiches or scones with clotted cream. Perhaps if he excused himself under the pretext of needing to use the men’s room...

At that blessed moment, his comm badge chirped. With a silent prayer of thanks, he slapped it gently and whispered, “Picard here.”

“Captain Picard, there is someone attempting to reach you on your private comm system,” came the voice of Lieutenant Commander Data, the only android in Starfleet, from the bridge of the ENTERPRISE. “I informed her that you were in a meeting at Starfleet headquarters, but she was most insistent. She says her message is for your ears only, that you will be grateful to receive it, and that she has no intention of leaving this system until she has spoken to you.”

“Did you get the lady’s name, Data?” Picard murmured, though he had a pretty good idea who it was.

“After comparing the sound of her voice to all the female voices in my memory bank, I believe there is a 99% probability that your caller is Vash.”

Picard smiled. He had guessed right. “Thank you, Data. Tell her to stand by. Picard out.” He got up and headed for the exit, excusing himself to several uniformed Starfleet officials and alien dignitaries who were sitting in the VIP section with him. Most of them were elderly enough to have known Kirk personally. From the listless way they were sitting, they were just as bored by the long-winded speaker as Picard was. A couple of them had even dozed off. Some of them eyed Picard enviously at having found an excuse to leave.

When Picard got to the door of the auditorium, he told the security guard on duty that he had to answer a hail from his ship. The man nodded and stepped aside. “The Officers’ Lounge is three doors down to your left, sir,” he told the captain. “If you have to beam up, please let me know so I can inform the committee of your whereabouts.”

“Certainly, Lieutenant. Carry on.” Picard headed for the lounge gratefully, looking forward to a break from the tedious proceedings. The Committee to Honor Captain James T. Kirk would undoubtedly go on debating where to inter his mortal remains for some time to come. He had already given his testimony and would only be needed for the final vote. He had already made up his mind that Kirk deserved to be brought home so that he could rest in his own family plot in Iowa, but he knew that his opinion was in the minority. Starfleet Command was determined to honor their fallen hero with as much grandeur as possible. Unless a living relative of Kirk’s could be found to object, he would either end up on Veridian III buried under a massive construction that rivaled the Taj Mahal, or entombed in the Hall of Honor here at Starfleet headquarters, his image added to the lifelike figures in the gallery of fallen heroes that included Captain Christopher Pike, Captain Rachel Garrett, and others who had given their lives in the line of duty.

He found the Officers’ Lounge deserted, which was understandable. The meeting of the Committee to Honor Captain James T. Kirk was being attended by pretty nearly every Starfleet officer in San Francisco today. He also found a bank of interstellar communication units next to a deluxe replicator, which pleased him greatly, since he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. It didn’t look as if the committee was going to break for lunch either, unless they decided to order in refreshments. The way that Admiral Sonar was going on, that was a strong possibility. Trust a Vulcan to keep talking long after the point had been made. But right now, all Picard wanted was a hot cup of tea, a bite to eat, and a chance to speak to his ship.

After getting himself a mug of Earl Grey tea and a plate of finger sandwiches from the replicator, he took the tray over to the most comfortable-looking chair in the room. Laying the tray on his lap, he took a generous sip of the fragrant tea. Sighing with satisfaction, he drank off a third of it before he pressed his comm badge. “Picard to ENTERPRISE. Patch me into my private comm system.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Data’s voice. “Stand by.”

Moments later a familiar feminine voice said, “Jean-Luc? It’s me, Vash.”

“Hello, Vash.” Picard found that he was smiling in spite of himself. “What brings you to this neck of the galaxy?”

“I wish I could say it was a desire to see you again, Jean-Luc. But it’s more like a mission of mercy. I don’t like to see the dead disturbed.”

“That sounds strange, from someone in your line of work.” Vash was an archeologist who made her living raiding ancient tombs and ruins of once proud cities on alien worlds, stealing artifacts and selling them to the highest bidder.

“I’m not talking about dusty old crypts of long dead potentates!” Vash said impatiently. “I’m talking about the newly dead, who have earned their rest after a lifetime of service to the Federation.”

“Are you referring to a certain Starfleet officer that I fought alongside of recently?” asked Picard cautiously.

“Is this a secure channel?”

“No. Stand by.” Picard took his tray over to the bank of personal communication booths. He stepped into the nearest one, closed the soundproof door and activated the privacy lock. He contacted the ENTERPRISE and asked Data to transfer the signal from his private comm system to the booth where he was now sitting. It took Data few seconds to comply, during which Picard munched on a sandwich. By the time he swallowed the first bite, Data’s voice emerged from the comm booth’s speaker.

“Transfer complete, sir.”

“Thank you, Data. I will be listening to the rest of this message on a secured channel. Picard out.” The captain finished his sandwich while he was pushing the correct buttons to secure the channel on which he and Vash would be speaking. When Vash’s image appeared on the monitor screen he said, “All right, Vash, we’re on a secure channel now. You may speak freely.”

“Thanks, Jean-Luc,” said the dark-haired beauty with a smile. “I was on Vulcan a couple of days ago. Guess who was back in residence at his father’s estate?”

“Ambassador Spock?”

“Bingo! He’s still recovering from a bout of Hemorrhagic Fever that he caught on Romulus. But he’s well enough to receive visitors. A very old friend of his from the first ENTERPRISE dropped in on him yesterday.”

“Do you mean Admiral McCoy? That’s not possible. He’s a member of the Committee to Honor Captain James T. Kirk, whose meeting I just left. He couldn’t have come all the way from Vulcan within the last 24 hours. Not in his condition.” The elderly physician was so frail that he required a recuperation period of at least 12 hours after traveling interspace.

“No, not McCoy. Another old friend, the one you found in suspended animation inside the transporter system of the JENOLEN.”

“Captain Scott? Well, what a pleasant surprise!” Picard said, smiling. “I’m sure Spock thought so too.”

“He certainly did. My source told me they spent at least three hours in the meditation garden talking about old times. But that’s not the best part.”

“What is?”

“After they had lunch, Spock and Scott left together. They took off in Scott’s ship, that shuttlecraft you gave him.”

“And I suppose your source told you where they were heading?”

“No, I figured that out myself. After following them for a few light-years, that is. I lost them before Betazed, but you don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out where they were going. I mean, here are two of the oldest members of Starfleet, two original crewmembers of the original ENTERPRISE, who served under its most illustrious captain. The same captain who was believed killed 79 years ago, but wound up on Veridian III helping the ENTERPRISE’s latest captain defeat a madman who was about to destroy an entire planet so he could get back into the Nexus.” Vash stopped to take a breath and grinned at him. “How am I doing so far?”

“Very well,” he assured her. He took a bite from another sandwich. After chewing and swallowing he said, “So, Watson, I gather you have deduced that the two subjects have gone to Veridian III to pay homage to their fallen comrade?”

“By Jove, Holmes, I think you’ve got it!” she chirped in a passable British accent.

“Well, that is understandable. After all, they were his closest friends back then.” He sipped his tea and pondered for a moment. “You know, by all rights they should be on this blasted committee as well. Somebody who knew Kirk ought to have a say in where he’s finally laid to rest.”

“That’s what I thought, too. So when I learned you were on the committee to decide Kirk’s final resting place, I thought I’d better contact you to let you know where Kirk’s old crewmates are headed.”

“Really, Vash, it’s their own business if they wish to pay their respects to their old friend. As for being on the committee, after spending all morning listening to some pompous Vulcan going on and on about Kirk, I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy.”

“You don’t understand, Jean-Luc,” she said impatiently. “These guys have more of a right to decide where Kirk’s interred then that entire committee. One of them has, anyway, if my theory is correct.”

“What theory is that?” Picard took another bite of a small sandwich.

“I’ll tell you, if you’ll take that sandwich out of your face and quit slurping your Earl Grey tea long enough to listen.”

“I never slurp my tea!” Picard replied with affronted dignity.

“Of course not. You’re such a _gentleman_,” she said with sarcastic emphasis. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard the old story about Kirk and Spock being closer than captain and first officer ought to be, according to the stuffy people who think sex is only for procreation.”

Picard frowned. “Really, Vash, is this the proper time to be bringing up those sordid stories about Kirk and Spock?”

“There’s nothing sordid about two people being in love!” Vash retorted. “No matter what gender they are! And if Kirk and Spock were lovers, then they’re sure to have been bondmates as well. Same sex marriage is legal on Vulcan, you know.”

The light dawned on Picard. “I see. So if Kirk and Spock were bondmates at the time of Kirk’s death, then Spock is his next of kin.”

“Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes! Now do you understand why I called you?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” said Picard, nodding vigorously. “Once Spock testifies that he and Kirk were bondmates, then he alone will have the right to decide where Kirk is buried. Thank you, Vash, you’re a treasure!”

She laughed. “You’re just grateful that I got you out of that stuffy meeting!”

“Yes, and for giving me a reason to leave this dreadful place. The only problem is whether Spock will be willing to admit publicly that he and Kirk were bondmates.”

“I’ll leave the job of persuading him up to you, Jean-Luc. I’m just the messenger.”

“You are also a free spirit with a low regard for authority, which gives you a great deal in common with the late James Kirk.”

Vash smiled. “You could always see through me. Now you better get to Veridian III before Spock and Scott leave. Good luck, Jean-Luc.” She blew him a kiss before ending her transmission. Before her image disappeared from the screen, Picard smiled and raised his mug to her in a toast.

After finishing his lunch and depositing the dishes in the replicator for recycling, Picard returned to the auditorium long enough to inform the security guard that he was beaming up to his ship on account of a personal emergency. He then contacted the ENTERPRISE and told them, “One to beam up.”

FOUR

Scott and Spock arrived at Veridian III the following morning, on a bright, sunny day with only a few wispy white clouds in the sky. Scott’s shuttlecraft, the GODDARD, the one that Picard had permanently loaned him, flew low over the remains of the ENTERPRISED, low enough to see the saucer section of the once proud starship laid open like a cracked clamshell, its’ interior exposed to the elements. Recovery crews had salvaged all the valuable technology and components over a year ago, but there were still armed sentries scattered around the crash site.

“There must still be something valuable left aboard the old girl,” Scott muttered as his sensor screen displayed no less than two dozen humanoid life forms in the area, all accompanied by trace signatures of the energy weapons they bore.

“That does not concern us,” said Spock. “We are here to visit Jim’s gravesite. I trust you know the location?”

“Aye, that I do. A copy of Picard’s report was forwarded to me at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards on Mars, where I was at the time. Rank doth hath its’ privileges, even for a retired Starfleet officer.”

“Then why was I not sent a copy of this report?”

“They probably thought you was still on Romulus. By the by, have you notified Starfleet of yer whereabouts?”

“I see no need to keep Starfleet apprised of my whereabouts, now that I am a civilian.”

“I thought so,” said Scott as he steered the shuttle toward a range of mountains on the horizon. “Did you notice that wee ship that followed us a-ways when we left Vulcan?”

“I did. I am glad to hear that you noticed it as well.”

“Did it look familiar to you?” Scott asked as he set the GODDARD on what appeared to be a collision course toward the mountains dead ahead.

“No, I did not. Did you recognize it?” Spock regarded the rocky range with some concern as it loomed closer and closer.

“Nay, ‘twas no Starfleet craft. Probably a private vessel. Most likely it just happened to be going our way at the time.” Scott swerved at the last possible moment to avoid crashing into the mountains and took the ship down closer to the surface.

Relieved to see that his old friend had lost none of his piloting skills, Spock relaxed his rigid pose infinitesimally. “Do you believe it was?” he inquired, not allowing his growing suspicion to show in his deep voice.

“In a pig’s eye,” Scott replied disdainfully. “I noticed how careful it was to stay at a respectful distance, while making sure never to lose sight of us. I kept expecting ‘em to hail us, but they never did. So, seeing how rude they were, I made a point of shaking ‘em off once we entered Betazed space.”

“I must admit to being relieved that you did.” As they skimmed over the terrain, Spock saw the remains of a bridge fallen into a chasm. “Is that where it happened?” he asked.

“Aye, that’s where Jim fought his last battle,” Scott told him, a touch of pride in his voice. “With Picard’s help, he managed to retrieve the remote control Soran had thrown away and used it to decloak the firing tower, before the bridge gave way beneath him.”

Spock stared at the twisted remains at the bottom of the chasm and closed his eyes in pain, imagining the beloved body of his _t’hy’la_ entangled in the warped metal. “Did he survive the fall long enough to address Picard?” he asked quietly.

“Aye, he did. He looked Picard straight in the eye and told him, ‘It was-fun.’” Scott smiled, even as his eyes filled with tears at the thought of his gallant friend dying alone. No, not alone. He had a fellow Starfleet officer beside him. _*But it should have been one of us, damn it!* _he thought angrily.

“It should have been me,” Spock said softly, as if he had read Scott’s mind. “I should have been the one beside him when he died.” His impassive expression was in stark contrast to the quiet anguish in his low voice.

“Aye, Spock, it shoulda been you at Jim’s side when he breathed his last,” Scott agreed. “But who knew he’d gone into the Nexus, instead of open space, when it blew that hole in the ENTERPRISE’s hull? And who’da dreamed he’d come back 78 years in the future?”

Spock sighed. “I should have known he would come back someday. When the ENTERPRISE was damaged by its’ contact with the Nexus Ribbon, no one ever found Jim’s remains. And I never felt our bond break, as it should have done at the moment of his death; all I felt was a sense of-distance, as if he were very far away, in a deep sleep or a coma. But when I mentioned this to my father, he said it was not unusual for a bereaved bondmate to feel residual traces of a broken bond. He called it a phantom bond, comparing it to the phantom pain one feels after having a limb amputated. Both are only sensory memories of what one used to have.”

“Do you still feel as if Jim is close to you, then?” Scott asked, carefully bringing the shuttle down to ground level at the foot of the mountain.

“Yes; sometimes it feels as if he never left.” Spock hesitated, wondering if he should tell Scott about the dream he had before they left Vulcan. _*No, I will keep that to myself*,_ he decided. _*Seeing Jim in my dreams is not the same as having him here in the flesh, but it is better than nothing.* _He had no idea how to explain the presence of the Nexus Ribbon in his dream and why Jim told him that it had to take both of them, so that they could be together. Even if that had been possible, such a phenomenon was not likely to occur in this galaxy for another 33.2 years at least.

The GODDARD landed gently, near a ledge. “Here’s where we get out, Spock,” said Scott. “It’s right over there, on yon ledge. But let’s fix ourselves up a bit first. We got to do Jim proud.”

“It was my intention to change into more appropriate attire upon arrival.” Taking his bag with him, Spock went into the rear of the craft to change. Scott remained up front to change his own clothes. When they emerged from the shuttlecraft a few minutes later, Scott was in his old formal Starfleet uniform, Spock in a black mourning robe, with gold Vulcan characters spelling out his name down the right arm and his bondmate’s down the left arm.

Before they had gone more than a dozen feet towards the ledge, a couple of Starfleet security guards appeared out of nowhere. “Halt! Who goes there?” demanded a young human male of African descent, accompanied by an equally youthful Andorian. Both of them were armed with phaser rifles, which they pointed directly at the two older men.

“At ease, lads,” Scott told them. “It’s Captain Montgomery Scott and Ambassador Spock of Vulcan, come to pay our respects to Captain Kirk.”

The two young men gawked at them. “Captain Scott? _The_ Captain Scott? And Ambassador Spock too?” said the human in an awe-struck voice, looking like he’d just seen the Second Coming. The Andorian looked just as amazed; his antennae twitched as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

Spock maintained a dignified silence, but Scott grinned and said, “Aye, that we are, lads,” knowing that their exploits on the original ENTERPRISE were required reading at Starfleet Academy. These two looked as if they had only graduated recently. “And I’m glad to see that Starfleet has left an honor guard at Jim Kirk’s grave. Would ye be good enough to escort us there now, so we can say a proper good-bye to our captain?”

The human lowered his weapon to salute them respectfully. “We’d be honored, sir.”

“But Matthews,” the Andorian protested, “they said no visitors were allowed until the committee decided where the captain would be buried.”

“Come on, Talahass, I’m sure they didn’t mean distinguished visitors like these!” Matthews insisted. “They were part of Kirk’s crew!”

“I know who they are, Matthews. But we have our orders.”

Matthews sighed. “Do you have to be so by-the-book, Talahass?”

“Yer friend’s right, lad,” Scott said, playing peacemaker. “Better to get permission first, even for Kirk’s old shipmates. Let me speak to yer commanding officer.”

“Yes, sir.” Matthews pressed his comm badge. “Commander MacKenzie, this is Ensign Matthews. We have visitors, sir. Important visitors who’d like to visit Captain Kirk’s grave.”

“Are they from Starfleet?” came a gravelly voice from the gold and silver pin on Matthews’ chest.

“Well, they’re retired Starfleet, sir,” Matthews said, with a bemused look at Scott’s antique formal uniform.

Scott grinned and spoke into the ensign’s badge. “Commander, this is Captain Montgomery Scott. Me and me old shipmate Spock would like to visit our captain’s grave, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Captain Scott?” MacKenzie sputtered in astonishment. “And Ambassador Spock too? Stand by, sirs, I’m beaming over!”

Shortly thereafter a Starfleet officer materialized nearby, a tall, rangy human male with gray streaks in his short, dark hair and beard. As he stepped forward to greet the distinguished visitors, his blue eyes were crinkled at the corners and his smile was wide in his lined face. “Gentlemen, I’m Commander Scott MacKenzie, in charge of this honor guard. Have I the honor of meeting Captains Scott and Spock?”

“Aye, that you have, laddie,” Scott said with a touch of impatience. “Now would ye be kind enough to allow me and me friend to see Jim’s grave? We’ve come a long way to pay our final respects.”

“Well, it’s highly irregular, but I’m sure Starfleet won’t penalize us for letting Captain Kirk’s old crewmates wish him a final farewell. Matthews, Talahass, you two will escort us while I accompany these gentlemen to Captain Kirk’s grave.”

A few minutes later, all five of them stood by the rock-covered grave where Captain Picard had laid the body of his distinguished predecessor. “Take your time, gentlemen,” Commander MacKenzie said to Kirk’s old crewmates. “We’ll be waiting.” He and the two ensigns then withdrew to a respectful distance so that Scott and Spock could mourn privately.

Scott stood on one side of the grave and bowed his head, murmuring a prayer for his captain. Spock stood on the other side with his hands tucked into his long sleeves, the hood of his black robe pulled over his bent, graying head. Both men were silent as they lost themselves in memories of Jim Kirk during his glory days. Scott knew that Spock’s grief had to be deeper than his, because while he was just mourning a dear old friend, Spock was mourning his mate. He glanced up at Spock during his prayers, but saw no tears on the lined face. _*Of course you won’t see tears, you old fool! __Spock ain’t the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve, even for Jim!*_ he thought angrily.

Behind his closed eyelids, Spock was seeing Jim Kirk at all the stages of his brief life; the reckless young Starfleet captain, the older, melancholy admiral who regretted ever leaving the bridge of his ship, the loyal bondmate who risked his career and his life to return to Genesis to restore his bondmate’s_ katra_ to his body, the reluctant diplomat who brought about the treaty with the Klingons. But throughout all the stages of his life, he remained the same dynamic man who had won the friendship of an aloof, but lonely half-Vulcan, half-human Starfleet officer, and won his heart as well after the disastrous _Khun’ ut’ Khali-fee_ on Vulcan, which had ended with Kirk’s apparent death and Spock’s intended bride marrying another. Seeing his captain and friend miraculously alive again in Sickbay had lifted a veil from Spock’s eyes, allowing him to see how he truly felt about him, so that when Jim had offered himself later than evening to alleviate the physical distress of Spock’s _pon farr_, Spock had found it easy to accept.

The memory of their first night together caused a rush of blood to his genitals, which made him become light-headed. At his age, it was dangerous to become aroused too quickly; Vulcan blood was thinner and circulated faster through the body. Along with the wear and tear of age, his body was also still recovering from his recent illness. So he took several deep, cleansing breaths to restore his equilibrium. But instead of lessening, his desire became stronger. Just the memory of Jim was arousing such a longing within him that his subconscious mind still believed he had a mate.

_*Ah, Jim! My body craves you like a drug, even though my mind knows you are gone. Who now shall quench this fire within me?*_ He could feel his knees trembling as he fought for control of himself. He began breathing faster as sweat broke out on his face and body beneath the all-concealing robe. His heart was pounding in his ears so loudly, he wondered if Scott could hear it too. Suddenly he sensed the presence of another. One who was not Scott, or any of the other living beings nearby. This presence wrapped itself around him; warm and loving, just like Jim when they lay together.

_*Spock, can you hear me?*_ a well-loved voice whispered inside his mind. _*Spock, I’m not dead! I’m here, in the Nexus, waiting for you! I want you here with me, Spock. You must come to me! Come to me, Spock, any way you can. I know you can do it. Please, Spock, please! I love you so much. I need you so much. Come to me, T’hy’la. I’ll be waiting...*_ The voice trailed off as a warm hand fondled his swollen genitals, as warm lips kissed the back of his neck.

Spock was so overwhelmed by these ghostly sensations, which seemed so real, that he fainted, folding at the knees and falling on his face, lying senseless by Jim’s cairn as Scott cried out his name.

FIVE

When he came to, he was inside Scott’s shuttle, lying on one of the bunks. A Starfleet physician was examining him, a brisk, no-nonsense woman in her forties with curly dark hair and piercing blue eyes. “I declare, Mr. Spock,” she said to him in a Southern drawl thick as molasses as she ran her medical tricorder over him, “a man your age should know better than to starve himself after getting over a bout of Hemmoraghic Fever! Even if you are in mourning for your captain, God rest his soul.”

“Let him be, lass,” he heard Scott say from behind her. “If Spock wishes to honor Jim Kirk’s memory by ritual fasting, t’ain’t nobody’s business but his.”

“If he had cracked his skull fainting on that pile of rocks, it would have been everybody’s business!” the doctor told him bluntly. “Bones don’t mend as rapidly at his age, even with advanced regeneration. The last thing Starfleet needs is more bad publicity.”

“What d’you mean, more?”

“Can’t you just see the headlines?” she said as she prepared a hypo spray. “’Honored Ambassador And Starfleet Veteran Dies At Captain’s Grave! Old Shipmates Reunited For Eternity On Veridian III! Starfleet’s Finest To Be Buried In Double Grave!’ If they ever get around to deciding where to bury the poor man!” She snorted in disgust. “Personally, I’d take him back to Earth and bury him with his own people. But what do I know about the proper internment of heroes? I’m just a simple country doctor. Or would be, if my great granddaddy wasn’t in Starfleet.” She injected Spock so quickly it didn’t have time to hurt. “I just gave you a shot of Vitamin B-12 to build up your strength. As soon as you feel well enough to sit up, I want you to eat something.”

“Among Vulcans, ritual fasting for the dead must be maintained for twenty-four hours,” Spock informed her, speaking in a whisper to maintain the appearance of weakness brought on by fasting and the aftereffects of Hemorrhagic Fever. He silently blessed Scott for coming up with a logical reason why he fainted at Jim’s grave.

“Not when your body’s already been weakened by fever!” the doctor told him brusquely. “Where is the logic in denying yourself nourishment after a depleting disease, just to show respect for the dead?”

“Keep a civil tongue in your head, Carter!” Spock heard Commander MacKenzie say sharply. “The ambassador has the right to honor Captain Kirk in the customary manner of his people.”

“Well, aren’t humans his people too?” demanded Doctor D.V. Carter. “I’m all for IDIC, but there’s room for moderation in every tradition. Captain Scott, where’s the replicator? I need a bowl of soup for my patient.”

“All right, lass, I’ll bring it for you. See if you can coax him to eat.”

Spock closed his eyes again and withdrew into himself. The voices of the humans around him diminished in volume, becoming the faraway buzzing of flies on the other side of a screen. He focused on the impression he had received at Jim’s grave, the feeling of Jim’s living presence in his mind telling him he was not dead, that he was waiting for him in the Nexus.

_*Can this be true, or was it only a delusion brought on by fever and fasting, as the good doctor will no doubt maintain if I mention it to her? Even if she is not a descendent of Leonard McCoy, as I strongly suspect, I have the distinct impression she is as great a skeptic as he. What about Scott? Can I confide in him and receive reassurance that I was not imagining things? No, he is much too pragmatic. He would never believe me if I told him I had a vision of Jim urging me to join him. If I am ever to see Jim again, I must do so alone.*_ So Spock decided as he lay in his bunk on his friend’s shuttle, feeling more alone than he had been in the last 79 years.

“Here you go, Mr. Spock,” said Doctor Carter as she sat down by his bedside with a steaming bowl of_ ploomek_ soup. “You just sit up and take a few sips of this nice, hot soup. I know it’s not as nice as your mother used to make, but at least it’s hot and nourishing. That’s just what you need right now.”

Spock forbore to remind her that his mother had been human as he carefully sat up and reached for the bowl of soup. She offered him the spoon as well, but he shook his head and lifted the small bowl to his lips, blew on the steaming contents and sipped cautiously. Like all replicated food, it had the flavor of the real thing, but not its’ essence. It tasted like _ploomek_ soup made by a non-Vulcan chef in a starbase cafeteria, in mass quantities, for the nourishment of the faceless hundreds who dined there daily. But, as the good doctor said, at least it was hot and nourishing. Spock drained the bowl and returned it to her. “Thank you, Doctor. Now, if you don’t mind, I wish to return to-” He almost said “my bondmate’s grave,” but remembered in time to say “my friend’s grave.”

“Why don’t you just lay there a little bit longer, sir?” Doctor Carter suggested as she ran her tricorder over him again. “You seem a lot better, but you’re still pretty peaked. I’d like you to rest long enough to get your strength back before you try to stand up. Can you do that for me, now?” she coaxed him, her smile as sweet as Tupelo honey.

“You dinna know Vulcans very well, lass,” Scott told her laughingly, “if you think he’s going to mind you ‘cause of yer pretty face!”

“May I respectfully suggest you have your eyes examined, sir?” she retorted, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I’m no beauty, and even if I were, I certainly wouldn’t try charming a Vulcan with my good looks. I was just practicing my bedside manner, which certain people seem to think needs polishing.” She looked pointedly at MacKenzie, who looked both annoyed and amused at once.

“There’s naught wrong with yer bedside manner, lass,” Scott told her, smiling. “Considering who yer great grandfather is and all.”

“And how would you know who my granddaddy is, sir?”

“When I see Leonard McCoy’s features and hear his voice coming out of a lassie’s sweet face, tain’t no great stretch of the imagination to see she’s related to him somehow. And, since the last time I saw McCoy he dinna look in any condition to be fathering any bairns, my guess is yer one of his great grandchildren.”

“I declare!” said Doctor Carter, with a grin that marked her as a McCoy descendant with no hope of appeal. “Granddaddy sure was right about you, Captain Scott. He always did say you were mighty quick on the uptake, for an engineer.”

“Aye, the old quack would say summat like that,” Scott said cheerfully.

Spock interrupted at that moment. “With your permission, Doctor, I feel sufficiently rested to resume paying my respects.” He rose to his feet as he spoke, careful to do so slowly.

“All right, sir, if you must. But please take it easy. Allow me to escort you there.” She took his arm, only to have her hand gently but firmly removed.

“I appreciate your assistance, Doctor, but it will not be necessary.”

“But you can’t go there alone! You’re still too weak.”

“Then permit me to be escorted by my friend.” He nodded at Scott, who promptly came forward.

“All right, you stubborn Vulcan, I’ve got you.” He took hold of Spock’s left arm. “Let’s go back and finish saying good-bye to Jim.”

“By all means.” Spock and Scott left the shuttle together, followed closely by the concerned Doctor Carter and Commander MacKenzie, neither of whom wanted to see any harm befall one of Starfleet’s heroes.

SIX

The newly commissioned U.S.S. ENTERPRISE 1701-E arrived at Veridian III an hour after the planet’s sunset. Captain Picard hailed the Starfleet command center and asked whether Ambassador Spock and Captain Scott had arrived yet to pay their respects to Captain Kirk.

“I’m sorry, sir, you just missed them,” Commander MacKenzie informed him on screen. “They left an hour ago, after visiting Captain Kirk’s grave.”

“Do you know where they went, Commander?” asked Picard. “I have a very important message for the ambassador that I must deliver in person.”

“I don’t know where they went, sir. They spent some time talking quietly together by Kirk’s grave before they left, but I wasn’t close enough to overhear them. Not that I would have eavesdropped,” MacKenzie hastened to add.

“Of course not. But did they give any indication of where they were going from here?”

One of two young ensigns standing behind MacKenzie cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sirs, but I believe I may know where Captain Scott and the ambassador went.”

MacKenzie and the Andorian Talahass both turned to look at him in astonishment. “Ensign Matthews, were you eavesdropping?” MacKenzie said severely.

“No, sir!” Matthews protested. “I just happened to overhear them discussing their destination while I was helping Captain Scott fine-tune the impulse engines. He said they’d been running a bit rough and he needed a younger set of eyes to help him see what was wrong. Anyway, while I was poking around in the engines, I couldn’t help hearing the captain say to the ambassador, ‘If we leave now and travel straight through the night at Warp 9, we can be there by 0900 tomorrow. Are you sure you want to do this?’ And Mr. Spock said, ‘I must. It is the only way to set things right.’”

“’The only way to set things right?’ Are you sure that’s what he said, Ensign?” Picard asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m sure,” Matthews said earnestly.

“Thank you, Ensign, you’ve been quite helpful. Commander, can you tell me which planets or starbases in the vicinity can be reached in fourteen hours at warp nine from Veridian III?”

“I believe the nearest one is the Guardian Planet, sir.”

Picard suddenly felt cold inside. The Guardian Planet was the unofficial designation of the world where the Guardian of Forever was located, a world that Captain Kirk and his crew had first discovered a century ago. That world was off limits to everyone but scientists and scholars researching the past, lest some misguided soul attempt to change history by changing the past on his or someone else’s planet. Spock was both scientist and scholar, as well as one of the leading diplomats of the Federation. He and Scott would certainly be allowed to land on the planet, being members of the original landing party that had made first contact with the Guardian. Once they were on the surface, they would surely go straight to the Guardian, that mysterious gateway to the past. Picard had a pretty good idea of what they intended to do there to set things right.

“Thank you for your assistance, Commander MacKenzie. Picard out.” As soon as the screen went blank, Picard ordered the ENTERPRISE to head for the Guardian Planet.

“Is something wrong, sir?” asked Riker, noticing the tense set of Picard’s shoulders and the worried crease that had appeared between his eyebrows.

“Nothing I can’t handle, Number One. Best speed to the Guardian Planet. I’ll be in my Ready Room.” Picard left his command chair and headed for the Ready Room, afraid of betraying himself to his too perceptive first officer.

SEVEN

Arriving at the Guardian Planet shortly after 0900, Spock and Scott were received warmly by Doctor Lucias Bellwether, head of the research team from Earth that was currently assigned to the Guardian Planet. Federation law stated that no scientist or staff member was allowed to remain on the Guardian Planet for longer than six months, lest the temptation to alter history should prove overwhelming to someone who had become familiar with the Guardian. All findings were to be turned over to the next team as well, to prevent any one race from profiting from knowledge of the past. Spock had no interest in profit, but in loss. His own loss in particular.

“I wish to see the deaths of Captain Kirk,” Spock told Doctor Bellwether, a middle-aged man with pasty white skin, beady brown eyes, thin lips and thinning brown hair. “First on the ENTERPRISE-B in 2293, then on Veridian III in 2371, after he and Captain Picard had succeeded in defeating Soran.”

“Of course, sir,” said the obsequious Doctor Bellwether, who was seeking funding from Vulcan for a research project of his own upon completion of his mission here. “You’re in luck, a committee from Starfleet is coming tomorrow to witness the same events. For the sake of posterity, you understand. Among them will be the poet laureate of North America, whose job it will be to describe these tragic, but heroic events for the benefit of future generations, as well as a couple of agents from the Department of Temporal Investigations, to insure that no one tries to change history.”

“I have no desire to share the deaths of my friend with a crowd of strangers, Doctor Bellwether,” Spock informed the scientist. “I wish to witness them solely in the company of Captain Scott here, so that we may have personal closure, as well as the knowledge that each of our friend’s deaths was a noble one, a fitting end for the heroic life he led.”

“Of course, of course!” Bellwether beamed. “Naturally you and Captain Scott will want to witness these events together, without a gawking crowd around you. Just give me a few minutes to clear it with security and I’ll escort you out to the Guardian myself. The Starfleet committee isn’t due until tomorrow, anyway.”

Unbeknownst to any of them, the ENTERPRISE was already in hailing distance of the Guardian Planet. “Hail them,” Picard told Data, clutching the arms of his command chair tensely as he sated at the planet on the view screen.

“Yes, sir.” Data sent out a hailing signal to the surface of the Guardian Planet. “Guardian Planet, this is the U.S.S. ENTERPRISE. Please respond.”

“Hello, ENTERPRISE,” a young male voice responded. “You’re early, we weren’t expecting the committee from Starfleet for another 24 hours.”

“We are not transporting the committee from Starfleet,” Data informed him. “Our commanding officer has an urgent personal message for Ambassador Spock. Has he arrived yet?”

“Ambassador Spock?” The young voice sounded puzzled. “I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t informed of his arrival. Is he part of the Committee to Honor Captain James T. Kirk?”

“No, but I am,” Picard interrupted. “This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and it is very important that I speak to Ambassador Spock regarding the honors to be paid to Captain Kirk.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll see if the ambassador has arrived yet. Stand by, please.”

Several nerve-wracking minutes went by as the ENTERPRISE came closer and closer to the planet. Picard was practically on the edge of his seat as he waited to hear if Spock had arrived yet. The entire bridge crew sensed his tension; Counselor Troi regarded him worriedly from her seat on his left, while Commander Riker, seated on his right, gave him a look of concern out of the corner of his eye. Even Data, whose perception of emotion had increased since acquiring his Emotion Chip, was able to see that something was bothering the captain.

Finally the young man on the surface of the Guardian Planet spoke again. “Captain Picard? You’re in luck, sir! Ambassador Spock and Captain Scott have just arrived. Doctor Bellwether is giving them a private tour of the complex.”

“Did you inform them of our imminent arrival?” Picard demanded.

“Yes, sir. But Doctor Bellwether left orders that no one was to disturb them until they had returned.”

“Returned? Have they gone outside the main building?”

“Yes, Captain. They’re going to see the Guardian itself.”

Picard’s feeling of dismay at this news was so intense, it made Counselor Troi gasp. “Contact Doctor Bellwether at once!” Picard ordered. “Tell him not to take Spock and Scott anywhere near the Guardian!”

“But sir, I’m just a lab assistant. How can I give orders to the head of the research team?”

“Tell him that Starfleet Captain Jean-Luc Picard is giving the orders! And do it quickly! This is an emergency!”

“Captain, calm down!” Troi whispered. “Please, sir, your emotions are making my heart pound!”

“If you knew what was at stake, Counselor, your hair would be standing on end!” Picard told her bluntly. “Helm, increase speed to Warp Nine! Inform me the minute we’re in transporter range!”

“Captain, what is so urgent?” Riker asked, puzzled by his captain’s vehemence.

“We mustn’t let Spock near the Guardian of Forever!” Picard told him. “He intends to go into the past to rescue Kirk! God only knows how it will affect the present if he is allowed to change the past!”

EIGHT

Meanwhile, on the surface of the Guardian Planet, Bellwether was happily escorting his two distinguished guests through the covered passageway that led to the Guardian of Forever. “The weather’s a bit cloudy today. It keeps threatening to rain, but I think it will hold off long enough for us to see the past,” he told them cheerfully.

Spock nodded as he buttoned the top of his beige-toned softsuit, a one-piece unisex Vulcan garment designed to protect the wearer from all kinds of weather conditions. He had put aside his mourning robes aboard Scott’s shuttlecraft, after having made his decision. If he and Jim could not be together in the present, then they would live in the past together. It was where they both belonged, after all. As icons of the past, their time had come and gone long ago.

As they emerged into the dreary gray atmosphere of the planet, Doctor Bellwether’s wrist communicator beeped. “Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said. Holding up the device to his face, he pressed the stem on the side, putting it on mute mode. He scowled as he read the message that scrolled across the tiny screen, then pressed another button and whispered curtly: “Tell Captain Picard to wait in the reception room. I will lead our guests back there after they have seen the Guardian.” He shut off the comm device without waiting for a reply, turning off the beeper to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted again.

As they approached the huge, monolithic structure looming over the gray landscape, Spock remembered the first time they had seen it. Remembered a young, eager Kirk determined to help their friend Doctor McCoy, who had fled into the past after accidentally overdosing on cordrazine and being overcome by delusions of paranoia. Now Kirk was the one trapped in the past, doomed to relive the best moments of his life without his bondmate beside him, except as a memory. Now Spock was the determined one, determined to rejoin his bondmate or die in the attempt. Nothing would stop him now. He was tired of keeping their relationship a secret, tired of protecting Starfleet’s image of his Jim as a ladies’ man, tired of being alone and having to settle for his memories of Jim when the real thing was now within his grasp.

“Here we are, gentlemen.” Bellwether led them up to a waist-high fence with a locked gate in the center. On the opposite side lay the Guardian of Forever, only ten feet away. “This is as far as we can go. Any closer and we risk being sucked into the past. Don’t want the Department of Temporal Investigations breathing down our necks, do we?” he chuckled.

“I think not,” Spock murmured, gazing at the towering stone structure before them. “Does it still respond to verbal requests?”

“Yes, you just state the time period you wish to view. It will even pause on a certain scene if you ask it to. Remember, it’s a completely unbiased observer of history, so you see the actual event as it happened, not the official version. I can’t tell you how many politicians and world leaders long to destroy this device! The last thing some people want is to set the record straight.”

Scott, who was zipping up his yellow slicker jacket in anticipation of the rain, happened to look up at that moment and saw the ENTERPRISE’s unmistakable silhouette above the horizon. _*Uh-oh! Someone’s gone and tipped off Picard! We’d better hurry before he beams down!*_ He whispered in Spock’s ear, “Spock, it’s now or never! I just saw the ENTERPRISE in orbit above us.”

Spock nodded and spoke aloud as he addressed the Guardian. “Guardian of Forever! I wish to see the death of Captain James T. Kirk aboard the ENTERPRISE-B, in the year 2293.”

The Guardian responded in a metallic bass voice. “Behold the death of Captain James T. Kirk, as it occurred in 2293.” The lopsided hole in the center circle suddenly became filled with gray shadows, which soon turned into images of the past; Kirk, Scott, and Chekov boarding the newly commissioned ENTERPRISE-B, surrounded by silently clamoring reporters. Scott felt a bit eerie watching himself talking and joking silently with his late friends, reacting to the news that there was an El-Aurian ship in distress nearby and no other starship in the vicinity to response to its SOS, taking control of the engine room while Kirk went below decks to work on the deflector relays. But Spock only had eyes for the image of his bondmate; seeing him alive and well, and as beautiful as he remembered him, brought tears to his dark eyes.

Meanwhile Captain Picard, along with Counselor Troi and two security guards, had beamed down to the scientific complex. They materialized in the foyer and were greeted by a short, blond youth in a white lab coat, the same one who had received their hailing signal. “Hello, Captain Picard, I’ve been instructed by Doctor Bellwether to escort you and your landing party to the reception room, to wait for him and our distinguished guests.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Picard snapped. “Where are they?”

The startled young man said, “They’re at the Guardian by now, sir.”

“Take us there, now! This is an emergency!”

“But sir, I have my orders-”

“I’m giving you an order that countermands it! Do you understand?” Though he was only a couple of inches taller than the younger man, Picard seemed to loom over him, his authority making him seem more threatening, along with the two security guards backing him up.

Frightened by the way that Picard’s hazel eyes seemed to bore a hole right through him, as well as by the size of the security guards, the younger man stammered, ‘Y-Yes, sir! Right this way!” He practically ran to the walkway, followed closely by the landing party.

It was now 0945; the Guardian of Forever was showing its’ enthralled audience a view of Captain Kirk, bravely climbing through a Jeffries Tube in engineering to reach the deflector relays, while outside the ship the shimmering Nexus Ribbon came closer and closer. Just as Kirk reached for the controls, Spock reached for Bellwether’s neck, saying: “Forgive me, Doctor. I appreciate your cooperation.” He pinched the human scientist’s neck and rendered him unconscious. As Bellwether collapsed, Spock thoughtfully caught him before he fell on his face.

“I’ll take him, Spock,” said Scott. “You get in there before the Nexus takes Jim.” He relieved Spock of his burden and watched as the long-legged Vulcan stepped over the low gate and walked toward the Guardian of Forever, his eyes on the image of Jim Kirk.

At that moment, Picard’s landing party emerged from the covered walkway. Seeing Spock going toward the Guardian, Picard called out to him. “Spock! Wait!”

Spock didn’t look back or take his eyes off the image of his bondmate as Kirk successfully brought the ENTERPRISE’s deflector arrays back on line. Scott propped up Bellwether against the rail and stood before the gate, barring the way. “Keep going, Spock!” he told him. “I’ll hold ‘em off!”

“Spock!” Picard yelled as he ran toward them, followed by Troi and the security guards. “Spock, don’t do it! Come back!”

Spock broke into a run for the last few feet, running toward the image of Kirk. “SPOCK!” Picard shouted frantically, hearing his artificial heart pounding in his ears like a Klingon war drum as he ran. “SPOCK, DON’T!!” He ran right into Scott’s solid form. The sturdy Scotsman held him back as Picard tried to push him out of the way.

“Let me by!” Picard shouted. “Curse you, Scott, let me by! He’ll change history!”

“Leave him alone, Picard!” Scott said. “He ain’t changing history, he’s becoming part of it!”

“NO-O-O-O!” Picard wailed as he saw Spock jump right into the Guardian and disappear. Moments later the hole in the middle resumed its cloudy aspect, showing only shadows moving in the mists of time.

“What have you done, Scott?” Picard cried, clutching him by the shoulders as he stared at where Spock had been.

“I helped me two best friends reunite, that’s what I’ve done!” Scott released Picard, who staggered back into Troi’s arms. The security guards ran up and grabbed Scott’s arms. “Let go of me, ye blackguards!” he snapped. “Have ye no respect for yer elders?”

“Don’t hurt him!” Troi told them. “He hasn’t harmed the captain.” She held up Picard as he leaned heavily against her, gasping for breath and shaking all over, reacting to the hard run and the shock of seeing Spock going back into the past. She maintained her professional decorum as the captain gradually got his breath back and regained his composure, even though his emotional distress left her feeling breathless as well.

“What shall we do with him, Councilor?” asked one of the security men, glaring at Scott as if he had tried to kill the captain.

“Aye, what will you do to me, lass?” Scott asked. “I’m a civilian now, so you can’t court-martial me.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll go unpunished, Captain Scott,” Troi told him severely. “You know Federation law forbids using time travel to change history.”

“Like I told Picard, we dinna change history. We just made Spock a part of it. He wanted to be with Jim when he died, to save his _katra_. That’s his right by Vulcan law, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But how is he planning to return to the present, once he has saved Kirk’s _katra_?”

Scott shrugged. “Dinna ask me how, lass. The same way he got back the last time, I suppose. Didn’t take him and Jim longer than a few seconds to go back to Earth’s past and find McCoy, though it seemed like a week to them. So let’s just wait here a while until he comes back.”

“I don’t think Spock will be coming back this time,” Picard said, staring at the Guardian as if it were a living thing that had just devoured the renowned Vulcan. “I’m sure you don’t think so either. Admit it, Scott! You knew it would be a one-way trip the minute you heard Spock suggest it.”

“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, laddie!” Scott said scornfully. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing Spock coming out of yon oversized doughnut any minute now.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” asked Troi. “Or what if he isn’t alone?”

Scott’s ruddy face paled for a moment as he realized just what he had done. “Spock would nae do that, lass. He just wants to see Jim again, for one last good-bye.”

“Then why didn’t you go with him?” Picard demanded. “To say good-bye yourself and to make sure that Spock came back?”

“If I’da gone, I woulda been tempted to warn Jim of his death, and that would change history. Spock just wants to bid him a proper good-bye before saving his _katra._ Then he’ll bring it back here so’s he can release it on Earth.”

“Is that what he told you, Scott?” Picard asked. “Or is that what he told you to say?”

“He’s telling the truth, Captain,” said Troi, gazing into Scott’s earnest face with her limpid brown eyes. “He truly believes that Spock will return with Captain Kirk’s _katra_.”

“Of course he will!” Scott insisted.

“Then we’ll just have to wait here until he does,” said Picard. “Counselor, please see to that man there. I believe it’s Doctor Bellwether. Does he need medical attention?”

Scott said, “Nah, Spock just gave him a Vulcan neck pinch. He’ll be fine.”

“We’ll just take him inside before it rains, then. But I intend to remain here until Spock returns.”

Two of the complex’s security guards arrived at that moment, demanding to know what was going on. Picard filled them in, then ordered Bellwether to be taken inside and Scott to be beamed up to the ENTERPRISE and put in the brig, charged with temporal interference. Then he waited alone at the gate before the Guardian of Forever until night fell, along with a freezing rain that chilled him right through the layer of protective raingear that Troi had insisted he put on. But Spock did not reappear.

It was after midnight when Doctor Crusher, accompanied by Worf, beamed down and demanded that he come back to the ENTERPRISE with them before he caught his death of cold. Picard knew better than to argue with her, or with the surly Klingon who, at times, was more protective of his captain than the ENTERPRISE’s first officer. He knew Worf was quite capable of heaving him over his shoulder and carrying him away like a sack of potatoes at the doctor’s order, if he refused to beam up on his own. But he insisted on leaving a security team posted in front of the gate before the Guardian, with orders to notify him at once if Spock returned.

Scott spent a more peaceful night in the brig then Picard did in the captain’s quarters. The Scotsman slept well, confident that Spock would return from the past, while Picard lay awake staring at the ceiling, waiting for a summons from the planet’s surface that he knew would never come.

NINE

The next morning, a bleary-eyed Picard sat in the conference room with his senior officers discussing the previous day’s events.

“Spock has gone into the past, allegedly to retrieve Captain Kirk’s _katra_. From past observation of the Guardian, he should have returned virtually seconds later after completing his mission. But since it’s been well over 24 hours, I think it’s safe to assume that Spock never intended to return from the past, that he wished to rejoin Kirk for personal reasons. The question is, how has he affected the present? And how can we retrieve him?”

“Can the Guardian move forward in time as well as back?” asked Riker.

“No, Commander, it guards the past, not the future,” Picard told him. “Mister Data, have you checked to see whether there have been any significant historic changes on Earth or Vulcan?”

The android nodded. “Yes, Captain. I have done a thorough search of all Federation data banks having to do with Earth and Vulcan. Other than the mention of Ambassador Spock’s mysterious disappearance on Vulcan at the same time that Captain Kirk was sacrificing himself on the ENTERPRISE 1701-B, I found no significant changes in the history of either planet as it is recorded in my memory banks.”

“Unless whatever Spock did in the past affected your memory as well as the computer’s,” La Forge pointed out.

“Thank you for being the Devil’s Advocate, Mr. La Forge,” Picard sighed. “So it appears as if Spock did indeed go back in time for his own reasons. Now how are we to retrieve him?”

“Forgive me, Captain,” Deanna Troi said in her soft voice, “but do we really need to retrieve him? He does not appear to have done any damage to the present by his return to the past. All he wanted was to be reunited with his friend. Now that they are together again, why don’t we leave them that way?”

“I wish we could, Counselor. But if Spock remains in the past, what will become of the future? The future of Romulus, in particular.”

“Romulus can take care of itself,” Worf growled. “It always has before.”

“But before he left, Spock was making great progress with the Romulan Underground towards unification of the sundered races,” Picard reminded him. “He was a powerful influence on the pro-Federation party, which is still in the minority on that planet, as well as a real force for good. How will Romulus ever take its’ place in the Federation without Spock to show them the way?”

“That’s one significant change in history you haven’t checked, sir,” Riker pointed out. “Maybe you should have Data check the current status of Romulus.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Number One. I should have thought of that myself. Mister Data, please access the Federation databank on Romulus.”

“Yes, sir.” Data turned to the nearest computer console. “Computer, what is the current status of the Romulan Star Empire?”

The ship’s computer whirred and clicked a few seconds before responding in its’ psuedo-feminine voice. “Current status of Romulan Star Empire: approximately two-thirds of the planet’s population has been annihilated in civil war, which has been in effect since the failed attempt at invading Vulcan in 2368. The remaining third of the population is divided into pro-Unificationists, who believe that reuniting with their sundered Vulcan cousins is now their only hope of saving their dying race, and pro-Isolationists who believe that Romulus should stand alone, even if it means the total extinction of their race.”

Upon hearing this information, the officers of the ENTERPRISE sat around the conference table in various stages of shock and surprise. Except for Worf, who nodded grimly as if to say, “What else can you expect of Romulans?”

“Computer,” Counselor Troi said hoarsely, tears coming to her soulful eyes, “has the Federation offered any aid to Romulus?”

“The Federation has offered aid to Romulus three times, in the form of food and medical supplies, and has been rejected three times by Praetor Nemus, who has been besieged in the capital city by the rebels since he took the body of the late emperor there upon his death. The Federation has also assisted the Romulan Underground in helping 78,000 refugees, mostly war orphans and the elderly, to escape off world. Federation ships have managed to transport 80% of these refugees to neutral worlds, despite great difficulty in penetrating the cordon set up by the Klingons.”

“What are the Klingons doing at Romulus?” Picard asked.

“They are waiting for an end to the civil war or the final collapse of the Romulan government,” the computer replied dispassionately, “so that they can offer the survivors their assistance as military advisors.”

“If they’re only advisors, why are they carrying weapons?” La Forge muttered.

“To make sure the Romulans listen to their advice,” said Riker dryly.

“Why are the Klingons violating the Prime Directive?” asked Doctor Crusher. “Are they no longer our allies?”

“Affirmative,” said the computer. “The Klingons seceded from the Federation shortly after the commencement of hostilities on Romulus.”

“Apparently,” said Picard, “the desire to triumph over their old enemies proved greater than their desire to honor the Khitamer Accords.”

“Surely Chancellor Gowron would not approve this,” Worf protested. “Besieging the besieged is a cowardly tactic, unworthy of a Klingon warrior!”

“Oh, really?” said Riker, in a teasing mood. “You mean it’s not Klingon practice to wait out a civil war and take on the winners, who will have already had their numbers reduced by disease and starvation, as well as the fortunes of war? Gee, that sure sounds like Klingons to me!”

Worf glared at him across the table. From her seat beside Worf, Troi shook her head at Riker, warning him with a stern look to behave himself. Riker grinned at her, but said nothing else to provoke Worf.

“It appears as if we shall have to retrieve Spock from the past after all, Counselor,” Picard said. “Unless we want to see Romulus descend into barbarity without his civilizing influence.”

“They do not have far to descend,” Worf commented. “My people may be doing them a favor by making them a Klingon colony.”

“But what will it do to your people if they revert to their former ways, Worf?” Troi asked him gently.

“Shall I check the database on the Klingons too, sir?” asked Data helpfully.

“No, thank you, Data. I think we’ve already heard enough of what has resulted from Spock’s trip to the past.” Picard rose, looking over his senior officers determinedly. “Suggestions, ladies and gentlemen. How do we get Spock back?”

“It looks as if we’ll have to go after him, sir,” Riker said.

“And risk affecting the timeline ourselves?”

“Why not send Scott after him?” suggested La Forge. “He’s responsible for this mess. Let him clean it up!”

“But what if he decides to stay in the past, too?” Crusher asked. “Or makes an even bigger change in the timeline by rescuing Kirk?”

Picard groaned and rubbed his forehead as he felt a headache coming on. “This is not helping us, Doctor!”

“Pardon me, Captain,” said Data, “but remember that back in 2293, when the ENTERPRISE-B was struck by the Nexus wave, Captain Kirk was taken into the Nexus. If Ambassador Spock went back into the past to be with him at that moment, it would be logical to assume that he would also be taken into the Nexus. Therefore, if we wish to retrieve Ambassador Spock, we have only two choices: to go ahead in time or to go back. According to my calculations, the Nexus wave is due to reappear in this galaxy in 33.2 years. If someone could travel ahead to that time and enter the Nexus, that person could find both Captain Kirk and Ambassador Spock. That person could also use the Guardian of Forever to go back in time and either catch the Nexus Wave when it sideswiped the ENTERPRISE-B, or when it appeared over Veridian III. The only difficulty then would be in persuading Ambassador Spock to return to this timeline.”

“And which choice would you suggest that we make, Mr. Data?” asked the captain.

“Since there are currently no time travel devices in this galaxy that can go forward in time, I would suggest that we beam back down to the Guardian Planet and go back in time, sir.”

Picard gave another sigh and bowed his head, studying the dark brown surface of the plastiwood table beneath his hands as he considered his options: one, do nothing and allow Romulus to

descend into chaos and eventually be conquered by the Klingons. Or two, go back down to the Guardian Planet and use the Guardian of Forever to restore the timeline. His crew waited in silence to hear his decision.

Picard finally raised his head and said wearily, “Very well, Mr. Data. We’ll go back. And since I am the only member of this crew who is personally acquainted with both Spock and Kirk, it appears as if I shall have to be the one to return to the past and try to persuade Spock to come home.”

TEN

When Spock went through the Guardian, he found himself on board the ENTERPRISE-B looking up at his bondmate as he finally managed to get the deflector relays back on line. Just the sight of him was enough to bring a painful lump to Spock’s throat and tears to his eyes.

Kirk had only a moment to regard his work with satisfaction before the Nexus wave struck the ship; Kirk was thrown backwards by the impact. As he fell, Spock put his arms out and caught him before he could hit the deck. The entire deflector section was sheared off and pulverized within seconds, all living matter sucked into the Nexus before the vacuum of space could freeze it and suck all the air out of it. Before Kirk had time to realize what was happening, the Nexus had taken them both.

Spock spent the next thirty seconds or so whirling through darkness, hearing and seeing nothing, feeling only the warm, living body of his bondmate in his arms. He kept his eyes closed and his arms wrapped tight around his precious burden, until he felt them both stop. He opened his eyes slowly and saw only darkness at first. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the ceiling of his old cabin aboard the original ENTERPRISE. There was a dull, reddish glow coming from the firepot beast, which symbolized the hearth of home to all space-faring Vulcans. There was a lingering smell of incense in the air from his last meditation. There was also the distinctive smell of Jim Kirk’s aftershave, mingled with the smell of male sweat, human and Vulcan. He heard a familiar sigh of satisfaction as he became aware of a familiar weight on his body. Then he saw Kirk raise his head from his Vulcan lover’s hairy breast.

“Spock,” he said softly with a smile, hazel eyes aglow with love in the dim, reddish light, “parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. I wait for thee in the appointed place.”

Hearing the ritual words of greeting used by Vulcan bondmates after a long separation, Spock responded in kind. “James, parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. I meet thee in the appointed place.”

“I knew you would come,” Kirk said. “I knew we were destined to meet here. After all my memories of my other lovers had come and gone, my memories of you were the only ones that remained. You’re the only memory that didn’t fade away or become boring, no matter how long I spent remembering. That’s how I knew we would meet again.”

“But Jim, you no longer exist in the real world. How can you exist here, except as a memory yourself? Can even a memory remember?”

“Yes, if you believe in it. Do you believe in me, Spock?”

“Yes, Jim. I have always believed in you. Even when they told me you had died, I could still feel your living presence in my mind. Our bond was never broken.”

“No, it wasn’t. Because I never died, Spock. Even after my second death on Veridian III, enough of me remained in the Nexus to pull me through when I passed out of my body in the real world. Now I exist here completely. And so can you, if you wish.” Kirk paused to give him a loving kiss. “Stay with me here in the Nexus, Spock,” he urged him. “Time has no meaning here. We can spend eternity reliving all our yesterdays. Or create a completely different past, doing all the things we should have done, or never got a chance to do. We’ll never grow old, get sick or die. We can be alone together or have all of our friends around us whenever we wish. What do you say, Spock?”

Spock pulled him close. “Yes, Jim. Let us spend eternity alone together, or in the company of those we both knew and loved, as you wish.”

“Right now, I just want to be alone with you,” Kirk admitted with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“As do I,_ T’hy’la_.” Their lips met again in a long-awaited kiss. They spent the rest of that night locked in love together. And since time meant nothing there, the night lasted long enough for them to enjoy all of their favorite positions, and still get a good night’s sleep afterwards, without being awakened by the morning alarm or any emergency hails over the ship’s comm frequency.

ELEVEN

A grim-faced Captain Picard beamed down to the Guardian Planet at a quarter to noon, accompanied by his first officer and Captain Scott, who was escorted by Worf. It was hard for Scott to conceal his dislike of the Klingon security officer, whose big hand was warped around the human’s arm like a living manacle, while his free hand stayed near his phaser at all times. They were greeted by Doctor Bellwether, who was wringing his hands and whimpering.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! Whatever shall we do, Captain? I don’t need a visit from Temporal Investigations on my record! How do we get Ambassador Spock back from the past?”

“Not we, Doctor. Me.” Picard gave Scott a hard look. “Since I am the only person here who can be depended on not to interfere with the past once I’m there.”

“Are ye implying that I’m not to be trusted, Picard?” Scott demanded.

“I think we all know by now how trustworthy you are, Captain Scott. At least where your old friends are concerned. Which is why Riker and Worf have orders not to leave you alone while I’m gone.”

“Trust me, Captain,” Worf growled. “He shall not have a second chance to change the past.”

“I wasn’t the one who went into the past, ye Klingon brute!” Scott tugged futilely against the Klingon’s grip on his arm. Worf remained as firmly rooted to the ground as a tall tree. “All I did was help a friend who was grieving over his lost love.”

“All you did was change the present by meddling with the past,” Riker retorted.

“Romulus’ present, you mean. Who gives a damn what happens to those barbarians? Did ye really think that Spock woulda changed ‘em to civilized beings?”

“We’ll never know unless we get him back, will we?” said Picard. “Doctor Bellwether, please take us to the Guardian.”

The anxious scientist escorted the landing party to the Guardian of Forever, where a security team from the ENTERPRISE still waited. “Any sign of Spock?” Picard asked the team leader.

“No, sir. Have you notified the Department of Temporal Investigations yet?”

“No, no, no!” Doctor Bellwether whimpered. “Please, not yet!”

“If my attempt fails, we shall have no alternative but to notify them. See to it, Mr. Riker,” Picard ordered him.

“Yes, Captain. Shall I give them custody of Captain Scott as well?”

“Yes, I’m afraid you must. I’m sorry, Scott, but I can’t allow the past to be meddled with, not even for the sake of two such gallant men as Kirk and Spock.”

“Aye, Picard,” Scott sighed. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t wish ye luck.”

After Doctor Bellwether had unlocked the low gate and opened it for him, Picard stepped through it and addressed the Guardian from six feet away. “Guardian of Forever, I wish to follow Spock into the past. Can you go back to the moment in time when he and Captain Kirk were reunited?”

“Before they were taken into the Nexus?” asked the Guardian in its’ hollow, booming voice.

“Are they both in the Nexus by now?”

“Yes, they have gone beyond time. Beyond that point in history, I have no power to reach them in this world.”

“Then take me to the moment before they were swept into the Nexus!” Picard ordered it.

“I will take you there, but I warn you: once you have entered the Nexus, I will have no power to return you to this point in time. You must use the power of the Nexus to return here. You and whoever wishes to accompany you.”

“So be it,” said Picard. He walked toward the Guardian and stood directly in front of it as it showed him the deck of the ENTERPRISE-1701-B with Kirk, Scott and Chekov being greeted by Captain Harriman and followed by a horde of reporters. As Kirk headed for the turbo lift for his fateful trip to the deflector section, Picard turned to address Riker again. “Remember, if I don’t return with Spock before sunrise you must notify the Department of Temporal Investigations and tell them everything.”

“We will, Captain,” Riker said solemnly, adding “Good luck, sir.”

Picard nodded his thanks as he turned back to the Guardian, which was now showing Kirk running through the deflector section.

“The moment approaches,” the Guardian informed him. “Be ready to enter on my command. Now!” 

Picard gathered his wits and his courage, and at exactly five minutes to noon he leaped into the past. The last thing he heard was Worf shouting, “_Qapla_, Captain!”

TWELVE

Picard spent the next few seconds moving through a dark and silent void, unable to tell if he was moving up, down, or sideways. At last he felt his feet touch solid ground; when his vision cleared, he saw that he was on a starship below decks, in the deflector section. A few feet away, Spock stood with his back to him, looking up at Kirk, who was finally bringing the deflector arrays back on line. Kirk had only a moment to regard his work with satisfaction before the Nexus wave struck the ship. Kirk was thrown backwards by the impact. As he fell, Spock put his arms out and caught him before he could hit the deck.

The bodies of both the men before Picard took on an unearthly glow, just as Soran’s had before the Nexus had taken him. Picard rushed forward and was enveloped by the same radiance as the Nexus took all three of them.

The next thing he knew, he saw the world around him brighten and solidify into the French countryside. He was walking down the road towards the Picard family vineyards. There in the distance rose the family mansion, which he knew had been destroyed by fire a year ago. The same fire that had claimed the lives of his brother Robert and his brother’s son Rene. But here in the Nexus, it still existed, unburnt, undamaged. Picard stopped to look at it, filled with wonder and joy.

Suddenly the bushes rustled and out popped young Rene, just the way he did the last time Picard had come here. A startled Picard jumped back, causing the boy to say, “Hello, Uncle Jean! Did I scare you?”

Picard smiled. “Yes, Rene, you gave me quite a fright.”

Rene ran out of the bushes and hugged him. Picard hugged him back, tears coming to his eyes. It felt so good to be home, to see his nephew again, to know he would see his brother again and they’d have dinner and talk about old times as if last year’s tragedy had never happened. But it had, and he was not here to please himself. He was here to rescue the future of the universe from the consequences of Spock’s act. If he didn’t act now, he’d be lost here amongst his own happy memories.

“Come on, Uncle Jean!” Rene was pulling him by one hand toward the house. “Mama’s made your favorite dish. Papa’s opening the Beaujolais he laid down last fall. And you promised to tell me about your first mission in Starfleet, after you graduated from the academy.”

Picard longed to accompany the boy, but he knew he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Rene, but I can’t come to supper just yet.”

“Why not?” asked Rene, looking up at him with great disappointment.

“Because I have to meet two old friends and help them out of a dreadful fix,” Picard explained. “Why don’t you go back and tell your parents I’ll be a little late for supper?”

“How late will you be, Uncle Jean?”

“I really don’t know,” Picard admitted. “My old friends have gotten themselves into a terrible mess, and God only knows how it will turn out. But I’ll do my best to solve the problem as fairly as I can.”

“All right, Uncle Jean. Do hurry back. We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rene.” Picard hugged him one more time, his eyes filling with tears again as he held the little boy who would never grow up. He kissed the boy and ruffled his silky hair. “_Au revoir_, Rene.” He strode off down the road, forcing himself to walk past the family mansion, trying not to turn around to see his nephew waving at him.

_“Au revoir, mon oncle!”_ Rene called to him as he stepped out of this memory into another one.

THIRTEEN

He spent the next hour or so reliving all the happiest moments of his life-his days at Starfleet Academy, his graduation, his first mission on the U.S.S. STARGAZER, seeing long-dead old friends like Jack Crusher alive again, revisiting fascinating archeological digs, having coffee with his first love at the Café de Artistes in Paris-before realizing that he’d never find Spock unless he concentrated on him alone. So he left the party where they were celebrating his promotion to captain, stepped out on the terrace and concentrated on Spock, how badly he wanted to see him and speak to him. When the image of Spock was clear in his mind, the only thing, he was thinking of, he jumped off the terrace.

Instead of falling, he found himself walking down a sandy beach on a hot summer’s day. Gulls cried overhead, and he recognized the California coastline. Farther down the beach, he could see two men running. The sea wind carried the sound of Kirk’s laughter to his ears.

“Kirk and Spock,” he whispered. “At last!” He began to run down the beach towards the two men.

Spock finally caught up to his bondmate, pulled him close and buried his face in his hair. Kirk leaned back against him, laughing happily as Spock hugged him and kissed the nape of his neck. When the Vulcan finally loosened his grip, Kirk turned around and embraced him, pressing his firm, compact body against the hard, hairy chest. Spock looked into the beloved hazel eyes as Kirk lifted his face up for a kiss. He dipped his head quickly and caught the full lips with his own, kissing his beloved like a thirsty man sucking on a canteen. Kirk gave a moan of pleasure as he returned the kiss, running his fingers through Spock’s hair as he did so and caressing each pointed ear tip tenderly.

As they stood on the deserted beach together, holding and kissing each other the way they had done before, Spock heard a familiar voice calling from far away. “Spock! Spock!” He looked up and saw a man in the distance, in gray and black Starfleet uniform, running towards them.

“Picard?” he whispered, staring unbelievingly at the distant running figure. “No, it can’t be...”

“Spock!” Picard waved to him as he ran, calling frantically. Waves from the rising tide washed over his boots, as the smell of the sea filled his laboring lungs and seagulls’ cries nearly drowned out his voice. “Spock!”

By now Kirk had heard him too. He twisted around in Spock’s arms and saw Picard running toward them. “Picard! What the hell is he doing here?” he hissed, eyes narrowed as he gazed angrily at the running man.

“I believe he wishes to speak to me,” Spock said gravely. “My absence must have been noticed by now in the current timeline.”

“Screw the timeline! This is our time now!” Kirk started to run, pulling him along. “Come on, Spock! If he catches up to us, he’ll spoil everything. He’ll make you go back.”

“I have no desire to go back, Jim,” Spock assured him as he ran alongside of him.

“Spock, wait!” Picard tried to run faster, but his booted feet kept sinking in the wet sand. His artificial heart was pounding in his ears like the waves pounding against the shore. e could feel running pains in his left side. He gasped for breath as he kept calling hoarsely to the fleeing Vulcan. Spock, don’t go! Romulus needs you! The Federation needs you!”

“Screw Romulus and the Federation!” Kirk snarled as he dragged his bondmate along. “It’s our turn now!”

“Where shall we go, Jim?” Spock kept up with him easily, despite his uneasiness at leaving Picard behind without hearing what he had to say.

“Anywhere we like. You choose! ick someplace Picard doesn’t know about.”

“Very well.” Spock concentrated until a shimmering doorway opened up before them. “This way, Jim.” He guided Kirk toward it and they ran through it together.

“Spock, wait! Spock!” Picard’s wail of dismay followed Spock as he leaped out of this memory into the next one.

Picard found himself alone, gasping for breath as he stood ankle-deep in the surf, staring at the remains of Kirk and Spock’s picnic on the bright red beach blanket. He stumbled up onto the sand and collapsed on the blanket, rubbing his chest in an effort to slow down his artificial heart, which felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest. His throat was so dry, he found himself reaching for the thermos in the picnic basket. He opened it with shaking hands and poured some of the beverage into the cup top. It turned out to be sweet, red Vulcan fruit juice. He couldn’t remember the name of it, but it tasted like a blend of strawberries and cherries. He finished the cupful that was left in the thermos while he waited for his breathing to return to normal.

“Jean-Luc?” said a familiar voice. A startled Picard looked up and saw Guinan in a colorful Caribbean dress and turban, a chilled Zombie in her hand. “Jean-Luc, what are you doing here? I was just thinking of you, wondering where in the universe you were now. I never dreamed you would return to the Nexus.”

“Neither did I,” Picard said slowly, still breathless from running. “But I had no choice.” He explained the situation to her, or rather to the memory of her, the part of Guinan that had been left behind when she left the Nexus years ago, the part that might or might not be a piece of her soul. Whatever it was, it listened as intently as the real Guinan would have and nodded sympathetically at the conclusion of his narrative.

“Sounds like you’ve got a problem, Jean-Luc,” she commented. “If you don’t get Spock back, Romulus and Qo’noS are going to take a giant step backwards. Not to mention the Federation.”

“I know, I know! But what can I do, Guinan?”

“Find Spock and tell him about the chaos his departure caused,” she urged him. “He’s too honorable to abandon his responsibilities.”

“But he’s not going to abandon Kirk. They’ve been separated for 79 years. How can I ask him to give up the man he loves after being without him for so long?”

“Jean-Luc, it’s your duty,” she told him firmly. “Appeal to him as a fellow Starfleet officer. Appeal to Kirk too. It worked before, didn’t it?”

Picard sighed. “Yes, but frankly I’m not sure if Kirk can be persuaded to sacrifice himself for the Federation once more.”

“Well, you won’t know until you try. Now get up and find that Vulcan!” She helped him to his feet and walked him briskly to the edge of the shoreline, where golden sand turned into grass. “Now you just stand there, close your eyes and breathe deep. Empty your mind, concentrate on Spock and Kirk. Think of being with them, of being where they are. When you’re ready, just step through the doorway.”

Picard closed his eyes and breathed deeply, thinking of Spock and Kirk. He remembered their many adventures together, the stories of their missions that he’d read at the academy. He thought of them together again, after 79 years apart, spending time together at a place that meant a lot to them both. Where would that place be?

A doorway opened up before him, shimmering like a wall of fiery glass. He opened his eyes and walked through the shimmering doorway. “Good luck, Jean-Luc!” he heard Guinan calling after him. “Remember, I’ll be there whenever you need me. Just think of me and I’ll appear.” The doorway disappeared. Soon Guinan did too, returning to her Carribean paradise.

FOURTEEN

Kirk and Spock found themselves in the Vulcan desert at sunset, in the middle of a sandstorm. Both men were dun-colored Vulcan robes and headgear with transparent sand veils wrapped around their faces. The sheer but sturdy fabric protected their eyes from the stinging sands and shrieking winds, while allowing them to see.

Kirk leaned heavily on his companion, trusting him to find them shelter. Spock seemed to know where he was going, guiding him through the windblown sand with his strong right arm around Kirk’s shoulders. It didn’t take long for Spock to locate a traveler’s shelter, a small stone hut into which he led the beloved human.

Once inside, the two men shed their veils and headgear. Kirk asked for water; Spock gave him the canteen he carried. While he was quenching his thirst, Spock lit the kindling that had been left in the firepot at the rear of the stone hut. Soon he had a fire going, which warmed the chilly shelter somewhat.

“I guess we’re on Vulcan,” Kirk remarked. “But where exactly?”

“Do you not recognize this place, Jim?” Spock regarded him fondly. “I brought you here on pilgrimage, on the first anniversary of our bonding.”

“Oh, of course!” Kirk smiled. “Now I remember. The Pilgrim’s Trail to Mount Seleya. It took us two weeks to climb to the mountaintop and back. Blazing hot by day, freezing cold by night. All those sandstorms and wild animals, and the trail that was blocked by a rockslide. It made me wonder if this was some kind of penance you had to do for bonding with me.”

“I recall you managed to hold your own quite well on the trail.” Spock unrolled the king-sized bedroll close to the fire pit.

“Well, I couldn’t let you down, could I? I had to prove I was worthy of being a Vulcan bondmate.” Kirk sat down on the bedroll and linked his hands behind Spock’s neck, pulling his head down until their faces were on the same level.

“I never doubted your worthiness.” Spock kissed him, then pulled him close, letting his bondmate’s fair head rest upon his shoulder.

They held each other close, listening to the sandstorm whistling and whining outside the stone traveler’s shelter and the fire crackling in the pit. Despite the warmth of the fire, Kirk shivered. “It’s cold in here,” he muttered. “That’s one thing I remember well. Even with the fire, it was always cold at night.”

“Remember how we managed to keep each other warm?”

Kirk smiled into his shoulder. “Yes, I remember. Can we do it again?”

“It seems like the logical thing to do.” He laid Kirk back on top of the bedroll and covered him like a blanket. They kissed and caressed each other through the thick, woolen robes. As theybecame warmer, they got bolder, and began loosening each other’s clothing, sliding their hands beneath protective layers of fabric to touch each other intimately. Kirk wantonly hitched his robe up to his hips so he could wrap his legs around Spock’s waist. Spock squeezed his bondmate’s buttocks through the thin cotton underwear the human wore beneath his robe.

“Jim,” he said urgently, “we must stop for a moment. I need lubricant.”

“I have it.” Kirk pulled out a tube from one of the pockets in his robe.

Spock took it gratefully. “You always were prepared.”

“Yep, ‘be prepared’, that’s my motto,” Kirk said cheerfully. “I wasn’t a Boy Scout for nothing.”

Meanwhile, Jean-Luc Picard was stumbling through the desert, shielding his eyes from the windblown sand with one arm. It didn’t take him long to figure out that he was in the Vulcan desert, after hearing a le’matya’s coughing roar in the distance and almost being bitten by a sand snake when he tried to take shelter under a rock. At last he came upon a veritable forest of giant cacti, where he found a huge, hollowed-out dead cactus to crawl into and sat there waiting for the storm to blow over. As the night grew darker, the air grew colder; he hugged himself, shivering, as he muttered, “I wish I had a blanket.” The next thing he knew, there was a blanket wrapped around him.

“Of course!” he laughed. “This is the Nexus. You can have anything you ask for.” So he asked for a mug of hot Earl Grey tea and sat sipping it contentedly, listening to the wind blow and watching the sand swirl by in the darkness for what seemed like hours.

When the sandstorm stopped, a heavy silence descended on the desert, as if the whole world was holding its’ breath. Picard cautiously left his retreat and wished aloud for a light. A battery-powered handlight appeared in his right hand. He used it to find his way through the forest of giant cacti, looking for a place where Kirk and Spock were likely to take shelter.

After a short walk, he came upon the traveler’s shelter. Drawing the blanket more tightly around him to keep from tripping, he crept up to it, hoping to find it occupied by the ones he was looking for. As he came closer, he could hear muffled sounds coming from inside the stone hut. The one window in front by the door was covered with a thick canvas curtain. He tried to push it aside, but it wouldn’t move, obviously secured from the inside. So he wished for a pocketknife and cut a small slit in the curtain. He peered through it and saw Kirk and Spock lying locked in love beside the fire.

Kirk’s robe was pulled up to his waist and he had his legs over Spock’s shoulders. Spock had a steady rhythm going and he was moaning softly as he pumped his lover’s ass. Kirk’s head was thrown back and he was resting his upper body weight on his elbows; his face was flushed and his eyes were closed as he sighed ecstatically with each stroke of his lover’s cock.

Picard felt his face burning with embarrassment, ashamed at having intruded on such a private moment. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two lovers, whose soft moans and passionate sighs stirred something deep inside him, something he thought had died years ago. This realization frightened him so much that he had to turn away, fighting to get his body under control while still able to hear the sounds of Kirk and Spock’s lovemaking. He put his hands over his ears so he wouldn’t have to hear them, let the blanket fall off exposing him to the cold night air, forced himself to think of nasty things like cleaning all the toilets on the ENTERPRISE with a toothbrush, but his body remained aroused despite his efforts. At last he couldn’t take anymore; he grabbed his blanket and ran out of hearing range so he wouldn’t have to listen to those muffled sounds of passion.

Kirk let out a cry of joy as he climaxed, releasing a hot, white stream of seed that spattered his belly and ran down his tilted body to his smooth chest. Spock kept pumping into him until he reached his own climax, whereupon he plunged his big cock deep into his bondmate’s hot ass, draining himself into the lush folds. It took a while before he recovered enough strength to pull out gently and unwrap Kirk’s legs from around his neck before easing his lower body back down to the bedroll. They held each other tight, reveling in their rediscovered love.

Kirk spoke first, nibbling gently on one pointed ear before whispering into it. “We beat ‘em all, Spock. Starfleet, the Federation, Soran, even death. Nothing’s going to part us now.”

A loud knock on the door shattered this romantic illusion. “Spock! Spock!” Picard called through the heavy wooden door. “Spock, you must come back! The fate of Romulus depends on you!”

“Shit!” Kirk hissed, glaring at the door as if he could incinerate Picard through it with his eyes.

Spock groaned. “Picard, why do you hound me? Why do you insist upon intruding into my life at the most inappropriate times?”

“Spock, you have to come back, it’s your duty!” Picard called, as if in reply to his soft-voiced complaint. “Too much has changed with your departure! You have to come back and set it right!”

“Like hell!” Kirk sat up so suddenly he flung Spock off him, right on his bare ass. “Sorry, love, but we can’t stay here. Let’s leave before Picard busts in.”

“He would never do that,” Spock insisted. “Captain Picard is a gentleman.”

“He’s also a goddamned buttinski.” Kirk straightened his robe and grabbed his headgear, wrapping it around his head with the veil wound round his throat like a scarf. “Come on, we can climb out through the rear window. This time I’ll think of somewhere for us to hide. Or somewhen. Whatever! Come on, Spock!”

Spock quickly put himself to rights and followed him to the opposite end of the hut, where Kirk was already ripping aside the canvas curtain of the rear window. Spock gave him a boast to help him climb out, then followed him outside.

Picard kept pounding on the door until he realized how silent it had become inside. Too late he remembered that traveler’s shelters on Vulcan had two windows, one front and one rear. He ran to the front window and looked through the slit he had cut in the canvas. The hut was empty. Cursing in French, he ran around the little stone hut structure and was just in time to see Kirk and Spock fleeing in the distance. He followed them as fast as he could, the blanket he wore flapping in the wind like wings, making him look like a bird of prey pursuing some helpless game.

Spock looked over his shoulder as he ran. “He’s gaining on us, Jim.”

“Not for long.” Kirk grabbed his lover’s arm. “Hang on, Spock! I’m taking us out of here!”

Spock held on to him as a shimmering doorway rose up before them like a heat wave. They ran through it together just as Picard caught up to them. When he tried to follow, the doorway disappeared, making Picard fall flat on his face in the sand.

Picard sat up, spitting sand furiously and rubbing it from his eyes. After relieving his feelings by cursing some more, he rose to his feet with his fists clenched in determination.

“You can run, Spock, but you can’t hide,” he declared. “I’ll follow you wherever you go! I’ll make you listen to me, for Romulus’ sake. For the Klingons’ sake. For the sake of everybody in the Federation who was affected by your decision. Including me.” He breathed deeply to calm himself, then pictured Kirk and Spock clearly in his mind and wished himself with them. The shimmering doorway rose before him once more. He shrugged his blanket off and stepped through it, disappearing from one memory into the next.

FIFTEEN

He spent the next twelve hours in real time pursuing Kirk and Spock through many different worlds in many different timelines. One moment they were on Earth, lying in a haystack on an Iowa farm, the next moment they were showering together in a rainbow-colored waterfall on Titus IV. They passed through the freezing cold of ancient Sarpedion as well as the heat of Vulcan’s Forge on the edge of the great desert, outside the capital city of Sh’Khar where Spock’s ancestral home lay. On a Romulan war bird, Picard had to fight his way through Romulans as Kirk and Spock, both disguised as Romulans, walked calmly through them.

He was starting to tire as he climbed up the rocky face of El Capitan Mountain on Earth, only to find when he reached the top that they had climbed down the other side. He pursued them on horseback across the desert landscape of Nimbus III, also known as Paradise, the failed colony planet where Spock’s half-brother Sybok had lured them in his quest for Sha-Ka-Ree. When he found himself on Mudd’s World, surrounded by beautiful android women eager to fulfill his every wish, he was tempted to stay and rest a while. But nothing could deter Captain Picard from his duty, though he did stay long enough to have a genuine gourmet French meal.

The next thing he knew, he was running through the foggy streets of Argelius II, knowing that Kirk and Spock were always just ahead of him, but never quite able to catch up to them. He pursued them down a dark alley and found himself in the arena on Triskelion, where he was forced into hand-to-hand combat with a leather-clad thrall. Fortunately, the thrall’s brute strength was no match for Picard’s skill at Venusian jujitsu. After throwing him to one side, Picard ran out of the arena in pursuit of the fleeing lovers, only to find himself on Platonius, where Parmen and his people used their psychic powers to keep him immobile while Kirk and Spock made their getaway. He escaped from that scenario by wishing himself to be more psychically powerful than the Platonians, thus easily overcoming their combined mental powers.

No sooner had he escaped Plato’s Stepchildren when he found himself on Tyree’s planet, running from a mugato. It took him a while to lose the horned white ape, during which time the lovers took refuge in a pleasure pit, a red velvet-lined sunken bed in a luxurious hotel on Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet. Picard caught up with them on the Shore Leave planet, where he promptly fell down a rabbit hole and had to go through the entire “Alice In Wonderland” scenario before he could get away. By that time, Kirk and Spock had settled down for the night in Kirk’s Iowa cabin on Earth.

An exhausted Picard stumbled into the woodpile outside the cabin at sunset, which produced a pair of stubbed shins and a flood of French profanity. He sat down on the chopping stump to rub his bruised shins, sighing heavily. “Well, this is a perfectly fit ending to a dreadful day. I wonder what else can happen to me?”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when he heard a dog growling uncomfortably near. He looked behind him and saw a huge Great Dane, baring teeth as long as knives, its’ eyes glowing red in the growing darkness.

“I had to ask,” Picard muttered. He rose slowly from the stump and moved away, keeping a friendly, non-threatening smile on his face. “Nice doggy,” he wheedled. “Good doggy, then...”

Kirk’s faithful dog Butler was not fooled by the trespasser’s friendly overtures. He let out a series of menacing barks as he charged Picard, who took to his heels. Butler chased him into the woods, where Picard looked frantically for a tree with low-hanging branches. Luckily he found one near the horse trail, which he proceeded to climb with a nimbleness that belied his age. Butler’s teeth narrowly missed the seat of his trousers as he shimmied up the tree. Frustrated, the dog stood on his hind legs barking up at him furiously, daring him to come down and fight. Picard declined the invitation, preferring to cling to the branch he was straddling. It was a pine tree with long, prickly needles in all the wrong places, mainly the ones rubbing against Picard. 

Picard looked up at the heavens and gave a martyred sigh. “_Mon Dieu_, what have I done to deserve this?” He looked down at the dog, which was so big he reached halfway up the tree while standing on his hind legs. His deep-throated barks echoed through the mountainside. _*Surely Kirk and Spock can hear him inside the cabin. Perhaps they’ll come out to investigate,* _Picard thought hopefully. _*But if they’re doing what I think they’re doing in there, I doubt they’ll be in any hurry to come out.*_ He sighed again, saying aloud, “Guinan, if ever I needed you...” He shifted around on the prickly branch, then settled down for a long wait.

Someone whistled nearby. Butler stopped barking and pricked up his ears. “Here, boy,” came a familiar voice, unmistakably feminine despite its’ low pitch. “Here doggy, doggy. Look what I’ve got for you.”

Guinan emerged from the trees. This time she was wearing a dark green silk caftan and headscarf that helped her blend perfectly into the nighttime forest. She came slowly towards the tree where Picard perched, holding out a raw T-bone steak in one hand. “See, doggy. Look what I’ve got for you,” she coaxed Butler. “Come and get it, doggy.”

Butler sniffed at the fresh meat and whined eagerly; his long tail began whipping back and forth like a pendulum. “Come on, doggy. Come and get it,” Guinan urged him.

Butler yielded to temptation and came down on all fours. He trotted towards her, licking his chops. “That’s right, doggy, come and get it.” Guinan smiled as she backed away, still dangling the steak before her. She kept backing up until she disappeared into the dark woods. Butler followed her, whining like a puppy, his tail wagging rapidly. He disappeared into the darkness too. A few suspenseful minutes later, Guinan ran back out of the bushes. “Come on, Jean-Luc! Get down from there while he’s busy eating!”

Picard didn’t waste any time shimmying down the tree. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Guinan grabbed him and ran with him back toward the house. “What happens when he finishes the steak?” Picard asked.

“Don’t worry, the steak is drugged. He’ll sleep for the rest of the night. But it’ll take a few minutes for the drug to work. And Great Danes can run almost as fast as horses.” They kept running until they reached the woodpile, where they stopped to catch their breath.

“Now what?” Picard panted.

“Now you finish what you started,” Guinan said breathlessly. “Get in there and give that Vulcan what for!”

“Suppose Kirk is busy giving him what for?” Picard asked dryly.

“Then you wait until they’re finished,” said practical Guinan. “No sense making them hate you. If I hadn’t seen my lover in 79 years, I’d be busy making up for lost time too.”

Picard laughed. “I’ll bet you’ve been making up for a lot of lost time here, Guinan.”

She just smiled. “Go on, Jean-Luc. You’ll find the key to the front door hidden inside the flowerpot on the windowsill. Go in quietly, tiptoe up the stairs and listen at the bedroom door. If you hear anything going on in there, go back downstairs and wait. They won’t have time to escape if you take them by surprise. Just don’t do it while they’re making love, please.”

“I assure you that I will be discreet. Thank you, Guinan.” He kissed her cheek and went to the front porch, where he found the key where she said it would be. He let himself in, shutting the door quietly behind him.

SIXTEEN

The house was just as he remembered it; a cozy country home filled with comfortable furniture and Starfleet memorabilia. As he went through the kitchen to get to the stairs, he saw a pile of clean dishes, pots and pans stacked neatly in the old-fashioned dish drainer by the sink. The smell of home cooking still lingered; he recognized the smells of potato casserole, broccoli in garlic sauce, apple pie and coffee. He tiptoed up the stairs and down the short corridor to the bedroom, where he put his ear to the door. To his relief, it was quiet inside. He opened the door slowly, in case it creaked, and peeked inside.

On the bedside table was the firepot beast that used to be in Spock’s cabin on the ENTERPRISE. By its’ dim light, Picard saw two bodies lying on the bed. Spock lay back on the pillows against the wooden headboard, holding his beloved in his arms. They looked so peaceful, so happy together, Picard felt wretched at the thought of separating them. But he knew his duty, and he did it, whispering so that only the Vulcan’s sensitive ears could hear. “Spock, wake up.”

Spock opened his eyes and looked right at Picard. The expression on his face told Picard as plain as words that he did not appreciate the intrusion and deeply resented the intruder.

“Spock, please come outside and talk to me,” Picard pleaded softly. “You needn’t wake Jim.”

Spock hesitated for a moment, then turned over on one side and released his lover. He pulled the blanket over the naked human, wrapped a blue robe around his own nakedness and came quietly to the bedroom door, which Picard held open for him.

Once they were outside, Picard closed the door quietly and turned to Spock. Before he could open his mouth, the Vulcan said determinedly, “You can save your breath, Captain. I have no intention of leaving Jim.”

“Spock, you can’t stay here. Your departure from our timeline affects too many people. All of Romulus, and the Klingons too.”

“The Romulans will have to await the birth of their own Surak. I was assured by a monk on Vulcan, who has the reputation of a seer, that this event would inevitably come to pass.”

“But did he say when?” Spock shook his head. “Then how do you know this new Surak will be born at all, now that you’ve changed history? You’ve never been to Romulus in the current timeline, so you couldn’t have inspired anyone with your teachings. What if the mother of this new prophet was one of your own followers in the former timeline? You’ll never know unless you return.”

“I shall never go back,” Spock declared. “I have sacrificed too much for the Federation and received too little in return. I was even forced to sacrifice my bondmate. I refuse to sacrifice him again.”

“Jim Kirk sacrificed himself for the Federation,” Picard reminded him. “And he did it willingly, because he was a Starfleet officer and knew it was his duty. On Earth, the Spartan army of ancient Greece had an entire battalion of male lovers called the Sacred Band, who considered it an honor to die in battle together, making the supreme sacrifice for their country. Can you and Jim do no less for the Federation?”

“The warriors of the Sacred Band were allowed to die together; Jim and I were never given that choice.” The barely hidden tremor of anger in the Vulcan’s baritone voice belied his calm façade. “I spent 79 years in a personal hell of quiet desperation, thinking I would never see my _t’hy’la _again. Now that fate has reunited us, I would be a fool to let him go. I lost him the first time to the call of duty. I refuse to let duty separate us again.”

“So do I,” said a low, determined voice behind Picard. He turned to see Jim Kirk, wrapped in a hastily donned plaid bathrobe, staring at him defiantly from beneath his tousled hair.

Picard stared back at him with equal defiance. “Let him go, Jim. None of this is real, you know. Even you aren’t really here.”

“The hell I’m not! I’m as real as you while we’re in the Nexus.”

“You’re just a shadow of Jim Kirk, the part of him that was left behind when he left the Nexus.”

“When we left the Nexus,” Kirk reminded him. “You left a part of yourself behind too, Picard. Now that you’re back, you’re going to find it mighty hard to leave again.”

“No, I have good friends and responsibilities to pull me back. You two only have each other, so I can understand how much harder it will be for you to part. But you must, for the Federation’s sake.”

“The Federation can kiss my ass!”

“Really?” Picard drawled, looking down his aristocratic nose at the vulgar American. “I thought that was Spock’s job.”

Kirk lunged at him furiously. The two men grappled for a few moments until Spock intervened. He managed to separate them before Kirk could push Picard over the banister. He held his beloved back while Picard continued to taunt Kirk. “I see you’re brave enough to strike a fellow officer, but not brave enough to let Spock go back to the real world!”

“I need him here!” Kirk shouted, nearly breaking out of Spock’s grip as he lunged at Picard again.

“We need him there more than you need him here! Without Spock’s influence, Romulus will be torn apart by civil war and eventually conquered by the Klingons, who will sacrifice their Federation membership for the sake of triumphing over their old enemies. How can you keep him here knowing that? How can you be so selfish, James Kirk, you who were once known for your compassion and courage throughout the known universe? Even your old enemies, the Klingons, celebrate their Day of Honor by toasting your memory, hailing you as the gallant enemy who put aside his hatred of Klingons long enough to rescue their colony on Signi Beta from unknown invaders.”*

Kirk looked ashamed as he turned away. “What was I supposed to do?” he muttered. “Look the other way and let innocent farmers and their families be slaughtered? I had to help ‘em, even if they were Klingons.”

“Exactly! It’s not in your nature to look the other way when people are in trouble. Even if you don’t particularly like them, you still feel an obligation to help them. Romulus needs your help now, Jim. So does Qo’noS. I know there’s no love lost between you and Romulus, but you did go to a lot of trouble to get the Klingons into the Federation. Do you really want all your hard work to go to waste?”

“I never wanted the job in the first place,” Kirk grumbled, staring at the floor. “I’m a starship captain, not a diplomat.”

“But you answered the Federation’s call when they asked you to bring the Klingon chancellor, Gorkon, to Khitamer.”

“Yes, and that same Federation was willing to let me freeze my ass on Rura Penthe after Bones and I were framed for the chancellor’s murder!”

“Jim, you were exonerated for that crime,” Spock murmured soothingly.

“Only after you and the rest of my old crew found the real murderers.” Kirk leaned back against his lover as Spock held him comfortingly. “I owe you everything, Spock. Even my life, several times over. What do I owe the Federation, after more than thirty years of faithful service?”

Picard took a cautious step forward as he continued to plead his cause. “It’s true you were treated shabbily in that incident. The Federation was willing to throw you to the lions, along with Doctor McCoy, in their eagerness to forge an alliance with the Klingons. But they hailed you as a hero afterward, once you had proven your innocence. Even the Klingons were forced to admit that your valor was responsible for rooting out the traitors in their midst. What greater honor can one ask for during one’s lifetime, that even your enemies acknowledge your valor?”

“The right to retire with your life’s partner at the end of your career!” Kirk retorted. “Neither of us got that, did we, Spock?”

“But Jim, you died in the line of duty. Twice!” Picard reminded him.

“And both times I died alone.”

“Both times? I was with you the second time! What am I, chopped liver?” Picard asked indignantly.

It made Kirk smile to hear this American expression coming from the very British-sounding Picard. “No, old chap, you’re definitely not chopped liver,” he chuckled. “And I want you to know that I did appreciate having a fellow Starfleet officer during my last moments of life. But it would have made my death a lot more meaningful if Spock had been there instead. Do you understand?” Kirk now pleaded with him.

“Yes, I do. Spock once did me the honor of mind melding with me after the death of his father. I was able to share Sarak’s final moments with his son, and his son was able to share his memories of Sarak with me. A lot of those memories had you in them as well.”

“Then you must understand,” Spock said, “how devastated I was when Jim died aboard the ENTERPRISE-B. He did not take the precaution of passing on his _katra_ to me before we parted on Earth.” Seeing Picard’s puzzled look, Spock explained. “It is customary for Vulcans going on a hazardous mission to place their _katras_ in the safe custody of their bondmates, to insure that their essence will live on despite their body’s destruction.”

“I knew about this custom,” Kirk said, “but I thought I was perfectly safe going to visit the new ENTERPRISE-B in my own home space. I sure wasn’t expecting it to turn into a hazardous mission.”

“I’m sure nobody else on board did either,” said Picard. “But now that you’ve been reunited, you can pass on your _katra_ after all. That way, you and Spock can leave the Nexus together.”

Kirk blinked and turned to his lover in startled surprise. “Spock, is this possible?”

“It is possible,” Spock admitted reluctantly. “But Jim, if I take the essence of your being into me now, you will cease to exist in the Nexus as well as in the real world, as Picard calls it.”

“You mean I’ll be trapped inside your head, the way that you were trapped in Bones’ head after you helped us escape from the Genesis Device?” Spock nodded. “Well, I can’t think of anybody I’d rather be inside of,” Kirk said teasingly. “But it’s bound to get a little confusing, with both of us trying to control your body at the same time. I’d be trying to lead you to a bar while you were trying to go to the library. It’s sure to cause friction between us.”

“You can’t stay inside my mind, Jim. Two personalities inside one mind are certain to cause a mental breakdown sooner or later.”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Picard put in, “but once you have removed Jim’s _katra_ from this place, you can return with me and release it wherever you wish. On Earth where he was born, or on Veridian III where he died.”

“If I do that, then Jim will be truly dead,” Spock declared. “Without a body to return to, his _katra_ will dissolve into the air of whatever planet I release it on.” He pulled Kirk closer as he spoke, unconsciously trying to keep from losing him again.

“Would you rather leave him here alone in the Nexus, with only the memory of you for company?”

“No!” said Kirk. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Picard addressed him now. “Would you rather keep Spock here with you, and let Romulus be torn apart by civil war and conquered by the Klingons?”

Kirk hung his head, closing his eyes and gripping his elbows tight as he fought to keep his pain from showing. Spock continued to hold him close, regarding him with tenderness and concern. Picard could hear Kirk muttering to himself like a man obsessed. “What to do, what to do? Do the right thing, of course, but what is the right thing? Go back with him and die, or stay and live without him? Keep him here and let millions of others die? Or let him go and spend the rest of my life dying inside?” He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, then looked up at Picard with eyes that were suspiciously moist.

“Damn you, Picard! You’re always giving me hard choices. Why does the fate of the Federation always depend on me?”

Picard felt truly sorry for this man that he had admired since his days at Starfleet Academy. “I’m sorry to have to give you such hard choices, Jim. But I believe it was your bondmate who once said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.”

Kirk smiled sadly at the memory. “Yes, he did.” He looked over his shoulder at his bondmate, who awaited his decision with true Vulcan stoicism. Only the sadness in his eyes betrayed his sorrow. Kirk turned back to Picard again. “Will you give us a few minutes alone, Jean-Luc? We need to talk.”

Hearing Kirk address him by his given name gave Picard hope. “Very well, I shall wait in the kitchen. But please don’t run away again. I’m terribly tired of chasing you two through worlds of time.”

Kirk laughed. “One world is enough for both of us, Jean-Luc. We just have to decide which world it will be.”

So Picard went back downstairs and put the teakettle on, looking through the cupboards for tea bags, cups, saucers, and spoons while Kirk and Spock stood upon the landing quietly discussing their fate and that of the world they’d left behind.

SEVENTEEN

It was still only five minutes to noon on the Guardian Planet when Captain Jean-Luc Picard emerged from the Guardian of Forever. One moment he was a shadowy figure emerging from the shadows of the past, the next moment he was standing on the stony ground in front of the landing party, which was clustered anxiously around the Guardian.

“Captain! Were you successful?” asked Commander Riker.

“Where’s Spock?” Scott asked anxiously.

Spock, now wearing his softsuit, emerged from the Guardian moments later and jumped down beside Picard. “Yes, gentlemen, I was successful,” said Picard.

Riker’s smile was wide in his bearded face. “Welcome back, sir.”

“Spock, are ye all right?” Scott asked his old friend, seeing how morose he appeared.

“I am fine, Mr. Scott,” Spock replied in a monotone, staring right through him.

“Did ye see Jim?”

“Yes, I saw him.”

“And did ye get his _katra_?”

“Yes, I did.”

“There ye go!” Scott looked around triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you all he’d come back as soon as he got it?”

“Yes, Captain Scott, you were right,” Picard said. “We all owe you an apology.” He turned to the others and said, “It seems that Mr. Spock did, indeed, enter the Guardian with the intention of retrieving Captain Kirk’s _katra_. He just got lost in time, reliving all of his old memories with his dear friend. It took a while for me to pry him away, but I was able to convince him that he was needed here more than in the Nexus. So we need not trouble the good people in Temporal Investigations after all.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” sighed Doctor Bellwether. His wrist comm unit beeped at that moment. He answered it quickly. “Yes?” He listened intently to the voice emerging from the unit as little more than a whisper. “Thank you, tell them we’ll be ready to receive them in a few minutes.” He signed off and smiled at Picard. “Your timing is excellent, Captain. The representatives from Starfleet have just arrived, along with the agents from Temporal Investigations. So we can proceed according to schedule.”

Spock suddenly became much more alert. “Not quite, Doctor Bellwether,” he said firmly. “I understand the viewing of Captain Kirk’s deaths will take place at noon, followed by a banquet?” Bellwether nodded. “Then you will inform the agents from Temporal Investigations that I wish to have a private conference with them afterwards. I wish to brief them on what happened here. My diplomatic immunity should be enough to insure that there will be no unpleasant consequences for either of us. But I insist that no mention be made of Captain Scott’s participation in my journey into the past via the Guardian. As far as you are concerned, all he did was bring me here in his shuttlecraft.”

“Of course, sir, of course!” Bellwether hastened to agree, still hoping for Vulcan funding for his next project, now realizing that it would be more possible with Spock’s intervention.

Spock turned to Picard. “Captain, I hope I may rely upon your discretion and that of your crew regarding this incident?”

“Of course you may, Mr. Spock. I guess it was too much to hope for that we could avoid any contact with the Department of Temporal Investigations. But if we all stick together and tell the same story, they may let us off with a warning. Is that clear, gentlemen?” he said sternly to the landing party.

Everyone hastened to agree with the captain. Even Worf grunted his assent. So when the representatives from the Committee To Honor Captain James T. Kirk beamed down, they found a welcoming committee consisting of not only Doctor Bellwether, his colleagues and their staff, but two of the late Captain Kirk’s oldest friends, as well as the present captain of the U.S.S. ENTERPRISE.

EIGHTEEN

Scott and Spock were able to attend the viewing of Captain Kirk’s deaths along with the members of the committee, with Captain Picard as an honored guest. Picard wondered what it was like for Spock, having to witness his bondmate’s deaths through Jim’s eyes as well as his own. He had no doubt that it was Jim Kirk speaking when Spock insisted upon meeting the agents from Temporal Investigations in private, to make sure that his old friend Scott wouldn’t be penalized for assisting him.

Now, after a sumptuous banquet, followed by the committee’s departure, Spock and Scott stood before Scott’s “borrowed” shuttlecraft in the ENTERPRISE’s docking bay after a complimentary refit, bidding farewell to Picard. “Are you both certain that you want to subject yourselves to the boredom of listening to all those speeches?” Picard asked as he shook Scott’s hand.

“Methinks there’ll be no more speech making, once Spock informs ‘em of his true relationship to Jim.” Scott chuckled. “Aye, t’wouldn’t surprise me if all such tributes was cut short, in their haste to get Jim buried. Last thing they’ll want is any negative publicity for Starfleet’s greatest hero. Least they’ll think it’s negative, bunch of bedamned homophobes!”

Picard smiled as he imagined the consternation Spock’s announcement would cause. “Are you sure you don’t want me there to provide moral support?”

“Nay, Captain, this is something we have to do alone. For Jim’s sake, ye understand?”

“Yes, I do. Good luck, Captain Scott.” As the sturdy Scotsman climbed into his ship, Picard paused before the silent Spock. “How are the two of you getting along?” he asked softly.

“Quite well, Captain,” Spock said in his usual calm manner, a bit of Jim Kirk’s mischief gleaming in his dark eyes. “We are both indebted to you for bringing us back. Now we must return to Earth so that Jim can rest with his ancestors.”

Picard, after looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard, murmured confidentially, “You don’t have to lose him, you know. You can always transplant Jim’s _katra_ into an android body. My second officer, Mr. Data, can construct a working model for you. Not as sophisticated as his, of course,” Picard hastened to add, remembering all too well the fate of Data’s unfortunate daughter Lal. “But he can make an exact duplicate of Jim’s body for your private enjoyment.”

“That would be reducing my bondmate to the level of a sex toy. No, Captain, I would prefer to remember our relationship as it was, not attempt to recreate it through artificial means. Jim feels the same way.”

“I understand. Good-bye, Spock, and good luck to you both.” Picard held up his right hand in the split-fingered Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper.”

“Peace and long life, Jean-Luc Picard.” Spock returned the salute gravely, started to turn away, then turned back to take Picard’s hand in a firm shake. “Thanks for the ride, Jean-Luc,” he seemed to say in Kirk’s voice. “It was-fun.” He actually smiled for a moment, looking so much like Kirk that Picard felt a lump in his throat.

“Good-bye, Jim,” Picard said softly as he shook the Vulcan’s hand. Spock squeezed his hand affectionately before letting go and climbing into the shuttle. Picard watched them take off through the transparent docking bay shield, his eyes filling with tears as he pictured Spock standing on the beach alone before the abandoned beach house, sharing one final memory with Jim before setting him free in the place where they were both so happy.

“Captain?” His first officer’s worried voice interrupted his reverie. “Is everything all right, sir?”

Picard sighed. “Yes, Number One, everything is fine. I’m just a bit melancholy. I just said good-bye to two old friends.”

Riker chuckled. “Yes, Spock and Scott are certainly the oldest friends you have, sir. Chronologically speaking.”

Picard just smiled. He was actually thinking of Kirk and Spock, but there was no need to tell Riker that. He drew a deep breath, let it out in a sigh and said, “Well, Mr. Riker, now that all the excitement’s over, let’s get back to running the ship.”

“After you, sir.” Riker stood aside to let his commanding officer precede him.

Picard waved him to his side as he headed for the docking bay doors. “You and me together, Will. Always.”

Riker smiled as he fell in eagerly beside him. They headed for the turbo lift side by side, neither one wanting to be anywhere else. It wasn’t until they were on the turbo lift heading for the bridge that Picard added, “Will, would you like to have dinner with me tonight in my quarters?”

Riker looked startled for a moment before he replied. “Yes, sir, I would.”

“Good. I’ll expect you at 2000 hours. Don’t be late. I have a great deal to discuss with you afterwards.”

“Ship’s business?”

“No, personal business. How personal depends on you.”

Riker’s blue eyes looked at him as if he longed to get personal right there and then. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the lift doors opened onto the bridge at that moment. Riker allowed his captain to precede him off and promptly fell in step beside him again, determined to remain at his side for as long as possible.

When Picard sat down in the captain’s chair, he felt Riker’s solid, reassuring presence behind him. He looked forward to having that same solid, reassuring presence in his arms tonight. He did not wish to spend the rest of his life in the same personal hell of quiet desperation that Spock had, longing for the man he loved. Not while he could still reach out and touch him. “Helm, set course for the Romulan Neutral Zone, warp factor seven. Engage.”

The ENTERPRISE became a silver streak in space as it headed for its’ next mission, carrying at its’ heart two hearts that were soon to become one.

**Author's Note:**

> *“Star Trek: Day of Honor #4: Treaty’s Law” by Dean Wesley Smith & Kristine Kathryn Rusch, published by Pocket Books, 1997.


End file.
